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Beautiful  Joe 


AN    AUTOBIOGRAPHY 


By  MARSHALL  SAUNDERS 

Author  of 
My  Spanish   Sailor,"    "Charles  and   His  Lamb/ 
"  Daisy/'  etc. 


WITH   AN   INTRODUCTION 

By  HEZEKIAH    BUTTERWORTH 
Of  Youth's  Companion 


Philadelphia 

CHARLES   H.  BANES 

1420  Chestnut  St. 

1897 


i 


r\^ 


S 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress 
'  in  the  year  1893,  by  the 

AMERICAN    BAPTIST    PUBLICATION    SOCIETY 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress 
at  Washington 


toi'J 


1  [hi  Ini 


TO 


GEORGE   THORNDIKE   ANGELL 

PRESIDENT  OF  THE  AMERICAN  HUMANE    EDUCATION  SOCIETY 

THE  MASSACHUSETTS  SOCIETY  FOR  THE  PKHVENTION 

OF  CRUELTY  TO  ANIMALS,  AND  THE  PARENT 

AMERICAN    BAND     OF     MERCY 

X9   MILK  ST.,  BOSTON 


THIS  BOOK   !S   RESPECTFULLY   DEDICAT-EO 
BY  THE  AUTHOR 


N 


wa?»*;<M<*»«bs:.,i^ 


rfe^S^^Sfl?*^^"'^  ■>,«!:  *^--B'^>j 


«-t:<iMS»£r...«i^ 


PREFACE 


DEAUTIFUL  JOE  is  a  real  dog.  and  -Beautiful 
•i-^  Joe  "  is  his  real  name.  He  belonged  during 
the  first  part  of  his  life  to  a  cruel  master, 
who  mutilated  him  in  the  manner  described  in  the 
story.  He  was  rescued  from  him,  and  is  now  living 
in  a  happy  home  with  pleasant  surroundings,  and 
enjoys  a  wide  local  celebrity. 

'^he  Character  of  Laura  is  drawn  from  life,  and 
to  the  smallest  detail  is  truthfully  depicted.  The 
Morris  family  has  its  counterparts  in  real  life,  and 
nearly  all  of  the  incidents  of  the  story  are  founded 
on  fact.— The  Author. 


*"««'«»•«' ai*titt1iiiiit 


IIMTRODUCTION 


The  wonderfully  successful  book,  entitled 
••Black  Beauty."  came  like  a  living  voice  out  of 
the  animal  kingdom.  But  it  spake  for  the  horse, 
and  made  other  books  necessary  ;  it  led  the  way. 
After  the  ready  welcome  that  it  received,  and  the 
good  It  has  accomplished  and  is  doing,  it  fol- 
lowed naturally  that  some  one  should  be  inspired 
to  write  a  book  to  interpret  the  life  of  a  dog  to  the 
humane  feeling  of  the  world.  Such  a  story  we 
have  in  '•  Beautiful  Joe. " 

The  story  speaks  not  for  the  dog  alone,  but  for 
the  whole  animal  kingdom.  Through  it  we  enter 
the  animal  world,  and  are  made  to  see  as  animals 
see  and  to  feel  as  animals  feel.  The  sympathetic 
sight  of  the  author,  in  this  interpretation,  is  ethi- 
cally the  strong  feature  of  the  book. 

Such  books  as  this  is  one  of  the  needs  of  our 
progressive  system  of  education.     The  day-school 
the  Sunday-school,  and  all  libraries  for  the  young 
demand  the  influence  that  shall  teach  the  reader 
how  to  live  in  sympathy  with  the  animal  world  • 

how  to  understand  the  languages  of  the  creatures 

that  wf»  Tio  v^  i'>*»— T -i  ^  J. 

''"^  ^  ^^"S  uccn  accustomed  to  call '  'dumb  *  * 

and  the  sign  language  of  the  lower  orders  of  these 


'  iJAWSttAtJi 


B 


INTRODUCTION 


'     ■  ^«P«"dent  beings.      The  church  owes  it  to  her 
m,ss.on  to  preach  and  .o  teach  the  enforcement  of 

logn-  dV"  Mrn'eTH''  "^  •'""•^"^'^ 

echoll  K     7  Hebrew  world,  and 

intZXr^V"  ^"'"'''  P°«^y-  -'^  Burns 
fellow  .^^^''°- Mouse,"  and  by  our  own  Long- 
Jellow  in  songs  of  many  keys. 

Kindness  to  the  animal  kingdom  is  the  first,  or 

Youn/r"'""  '"  *''^™"*  °''™^  philanthropy. 
Young  Lmcoln  once  waded  across  a  half-frozen 
nver  to  rescue  a  dog.  and  stopped  in  a  walk  with 
a  statesman  to  put  back  a  bird  that  had  fallen  out 
of  .ts  nest.  Such  a  heart  was  trained  to  be  a 
leader  of  men,  and  to  be  crucified  for  a  cause. 
The  conscience  that  runs  to  the  call  of  an  animal 
m  distress  is  girding  itself  with  power  to  do  manly 
work  m  the  world.  ^ 

The  story  of  '■  Beautiful  Joe  -  awakens  an  in- 
tense interest,  and  sustains  it  through  a  series  of 

lesson'"  xr''/"'  '''"°''^^'  ^^^'^  °^  -"-»  -  - 
and  the,  7  ""'"*'  *"  ^■'l^^'  circulation, 

and  the  universal  reading  and  response  accorded 
to  Black  Beauty.-  To  circulate  it  is  to  do  good- 
to  help  the  human  heart  as  well  as  the  creature' 
of  quick  feelings  and  simple  language 

When,  as  one  of  the  committee  to  examine  the 

SodetvT  f r'    ""  ''"'''  '°  *«    "~ 
Society,  I  read  the  story,  I  felt  that  the  writer  had 

a  higher  motive  than  to  compete  for  a  prize  ;  that 

from  thl'h":  '  f '""  °'  ^y^P^^y  '^«  "o-d 
from  the  heart ;  that  it  was  genuine  ;  that  it  onlv 

n.cucd  a  publisher  who  should  be  able  to  com- 


INTRODUCTION  g 

mand  a  wide  influence,  to  make  its  merits  known, 
to  give  it  a  strong  educational  mission. 

I  am  pleased  that  the  manuscript  has  found  such 
a  publisher,  and  am  sure  that  the  issue  of  the  story 
will  honor  the  Publication  Society.  In  the  devel- 
opment of  the  book.  I  believe  that  the  humane 
cause  has  stood  above  any  speculative  thought  or 
mterest.  The  book  comes  because  it  is  called  for  ; 
the  times  demand  it.  I  think  that  the  publishers 
have  a  right  to  ask  for  a  little  unselfish  service  on 
the  part  of  the  public  in  helping  to  give  it  a  circu- 
lation commensurate  with  its  opportunity,  need, 
and  influence. 

Hezekiah  Butterworth. 

( 0/  the  committee   of  readers  of  the  prize 
stories  offered  to  the  Humane  Society.) 

Boston,  Mass.,  Dec,  1893. 


^^*>'-mMBm*m>mi.itm^ 


Cj 


CONTENTS    ■ 


Chapter 

I.  Only  a  Cur  . j » 

II.  The  Cruel  MilKxMan 20 

III.  My  Kind  Deliverer  and  Miss  Laura  25 

IV.  The  Morris  Boys  Add  to  My  Name  .    31 
V.  My  New  Home  and  a  Selfish  Lady  .    37 

VI.  The  Fox  Terrier  Billy  ......    51 

VII.  Training  a  Puppy eg 

VIII.  A  Ruined  Dog  .  f,. 

^4 

IX.  The  Parrot  Bella ^q 

X.  Billy's  Training  Continued  ....  78 

XI.  Goldfish  and  Canaries 86 

XII.  Malta  the  Cat gg 

.XIII.  The  Beginning  of  an  Adventure  .  .  106 
XIV.  How  We  Caught  the  Burglar  " .    .    .118 

XV.  Our  Journey  to  Riverdale 128 

XVI.  Dinglly  Farm 1^2 

XVII.  Mr.  Wood  and  his  Horses    .    . 


ISO 


11 


-*<M.  tv.  «aatt««<Uite.. 


'^  CONTENTS 

.    Chapter 

XVIII.  Mrs.  Wood's  Poultry "^^^ 

XIX.  A  Band  of  ?-tERCY ,gg 

XX.  Stories  About  Animals ,7^ 

XXI.  Mr.  Maxwell  and  Mr.  Harry   ...  190 

XXII.  What  Happkned  at  the  Tea  Table   .  199 

XXIII.  Trapping  Wild  Animals 208 

XXIV.  The  Rabbit  and  the  Hen 218 

XXV.  A  Happy  Horse 

229 

XXVI.  The  Box  of  Money 

...  240 

XXVII.  A  Neglected  Stable  .    .  ^-- 

XXVIII.  The  End  of  the  Englishman  ....  262 

XXIX.  A  Talk  About  Sheep  .    .  ^-- 

XXX.  A  Jealous  Ox o, 

XXXI.  In  the  Cow  Stable  . 

-^95 

XXXII.  Our  Return  Home  . 

30j 

XXXIII.  Performing  Animals 

3*4 

XXXIV.  A  Fire  in  Fairport ,26 

XXXV.  Billy  and  the  Italian 3^^ 

XXXVI.  Dandy  the  Tramp 

XXXVII.  The  End  of  My  Story ,5, 


x'i'V'C 


i6i*»fcatt«»^ftte,i. 


PAGE 

.  166 

•  175 
.  190 

•  199 
,  208 

218 

229 

262 
271 
285 

314 
326 

333 
339 
351 


Beautiful  Joe 


CHAPTER  I 

ONLY   A   CUR 

|\  name  is  Beautiful  Joe,  and  I  am  a 
brown  dog  of  medium  size.  I  am  not 
called  Beautiful  Joe  because  I  am  a 
beauty.  Mr.  Morris,  the  clergyman,  in  whose 
family  I  have  lived  for  the  last  twelve  years,  says 
that  he  thinks  I  must  be  called  Beautiful  Joe  for 
the  same  reason  that  his  grandfather,  down  South, 
called  a  very  ugly  colored  slave-lad  Cupid,  and 
his  mother  Venus. 

I  do  not  know  what  he  means  by  that,  but 
when  he  says  it,  people  always  look  at  me  and 
smile.  1  know  that  I  am  not  beautiful,  and  I 
know  thai  I  am  not  a  thoroughbred.  I  am  only 
a  cur. 

When  my  mistress  went  every  year  to  register 
me  and  pay  my  tax,  and  the  man  in  the  office 
asked  what  breed  I  was,  she  said  part  fox-terrier 
and  part  bull-terrier  ;  but  he  always  put  me  down 
a  cur.  I  don't  think  she  hked  having  him  call 
^^  \,  d.  v,ur  ,  sr.ii.1,  i  xiav^  li^AiKj.  lici  sav  Liiai  biic  pre- 
ferred curs,  for  they  have  more  character  than 

»3 


14 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


well-bred  dogs.  Her  father  said  that  she  liked 
ugly  dogs  for  the  same  reason  that  a  nobleman  at 
the  court  of  a  certain  king  did-namely,  that  no 
one  else  would. 

I  am  an  old  dog  now.  and  am  writing,  or 
rather  getting  a  friend  to  write,  the  story  of  my 
iife.  I  have  seen  my  mistress  laughing  and  cry- 
ing oyer  a  little  book  that  she  says  is  a  story  of  a 
horse  s  life,  and  sometimes  she  puts  the  book 
down  close  to  my  nose  to  let  me  see  the  pictures. 

I  love  my  dear  mistress  ;  I  can  say  no  more 
than  that ;  I  love  her  better  than  any  one  else  in 
the  world  ;  and  I  think  it  will  please  her  if  I  write 
the  story  of  a  dog's  life.  She  loves  dumb  animals, 
and  It  always  grieves  her  to  see  them  treated 
cruelly.  , 

I  have  heard  her  say  that  if  all  the  boys  and 
giris  in  the  worid  were  to  rise  up  and  say  that  there 
should  be  no  more  cruelty  to  animals,  they  could 
put  a  stop  to  it.  Perhaps  it  will  help  a  little  if  I 
tell  a  story.  I  am  fond  of  boys  and  giris.  and 
though  I  have  seen  many  cruel  men  and  women. 
I  have  seen  few  cruel  children.  I  think  the  more 
stones  tiiere  are  written  about  dumb  animals,  the 
better  it  will  be  for  us. 

In  telling  my  story.  I  think  I  had  better  begin 
at  the  first  and  come  right  on  to  the  end.  I  was 
born  m  a  stable  on  the  outskirts  of  a  small  town  in 
Mame  called  Fairport.  The  first  thing  I  remem- 
ber was  lying  close  to  my  mother  and  being  very 
snug  and  warm.  The  next  thing  I  remember  was 
bemg  always  hungry.     I  had  a  number  of  brothers 


ONLY   A    CUR 


15 


and  sisters— six  in  all— and  my  mother  never 
had  enough  milk  for  us.  She  was  always  half 
starved  herself,  so  she  could  not  feed  us  properly. 
I  am  very  unwilling  to  say  much  about  my 
early  life.  I  have  lived  so  long  in  a  family  where 
there  is  never  a  harsh  word  spoken,  and  where  no 
one  thinks  of  ill-treating  anybody  or  anything, 
that  it  seems  almost  wrong  even  to  think  or  speak 
of  such  a  matter  as  hurting  a  poor  dumb  beast. 

The  man  that  owned  my  mother  was  a  milk- 
man. He  kept  one  horse  and  three  cows,  and  he 
had  a  shaky  old  cart  that  he  used  to  put  his  milk 
cans  in.  I  don't  think  there  can  be  a  worse  man 
m  the  world  than  that  milkman.  It  makes  me  shud- 
der  now  to  think  of  him.  His  name  was  Jenkins 
and  I  am  glad  to  think  that  he  is  getting  punished 
now  for  his  cruelty  to  poor  dumb  animals  and  to 
human  beings.  If  you  think  it  is  wrong  that  I 
am  glad,  you  must  remember  that  I  am  only  a 
dog. 

The  first  notice  that  he  took  of  me  when  I  was 
a  little  puppy,  just  able  to  stagger  about,  was  to 
give  me  a  kick  that  sent  me  into  a  corner  of  the 
stable.  He  used  to  beat  and  starve  my  mother. 
I  have  seen  him  use  his  heavy  whip  to  punish  her 
till  her  body  was  covered  with  blood.  When  I 
got  older  I  asked  her  why  she  did  not  run  away. 
She  said  she  did  not  wish  to  ;  but  I  soon  found 
out  that  the  reason  she  did  not  run  away  was 
because  she  loved  Jenkins.     Cruel  and  savage  as 

he  was.   shp   vf»f-  Io^pH  ^^^    __ j   t  1    1. 

—   J  ^^  .'Jtcu  mill,  a,iiu  i  DGiieve  siie 

would  have  laid  down  her  Hfe  for  him. 


I6 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


Now  that  I  am  old,  I  know  that  there  are  more 
men  in  the  world  like  Jenkins.  They  are  not 
crazy,  they  are  not  drunkards  ;  they  simply  seem 
to  be  possessed  with  a  spirit  of  wickedness.  There 
are  well-to-do  people,  yes,  and  rich  people,  who 
will  treat  animals,  and  even  little  children,  with 
such  terrible  cruelty,  that  one  cannot  even  men- 
tion the  things  thai  they  are  guilty  of. 

One  reason  for  Jenkins'  cruelty  was  his  idleness. 
After  he  went  his  rounds  in  the  morning  with  his 
milk  cans,  he  had  nothing  to  do  till  late  in  the 
afternoon  but  take  care  of  his  stable  and  yard.  If 
he  had  kept  them  neat,  and  groomed  his  horse 
ai^d  cleaned  the  cows,  and  dug  up  the  garden,  it 
would  have  taken  up  all  his  time  ;  but  he  never 
tidied  the  place  at  all,  till  his  yard  and  stable  got 
so  littered  up  with  things  he  threw  down  that  he 
could  not  make  his  way  about. 

His  house  and  stable  stood  in  the  middle  of  a 
large  field,  and  they  were  at  some  distance  from 
the  road.  Passers-by  could  not  see  how  untidy 
the  place  was.  Occasionally,  a  man  came  to  look 
at  the  premises,  and  see  that  they  were  in  good 
order,  but  Jenkins  always  knew  when  to  expect 
him,  and  had  things  cleaned  up  a  little. 

I  used  to  wish  that  some  of  the  people  that  took 
milk  from  him  would  come  and  look  at  his  cows. 
In  the  spring  and  summer  he  drove  them  out  to 
pasture,  but  during  the  winter  they  stood  all  the 
time  in  the  dirty,  dark  stable,  where  the  chinks  in 
the  wall  were  so  big  that  the  snow  swept  through 
almost  in  drifts.     The  ground  was  always  muddy 


I 


ONLY   A    CUR 


17 


and  wet ;  there  was  only  one  small  window  on  the 
north  side,  where  the  sun  only  shone  in  for  a 
short  time  in  the  afternoon. 

They  were  very  unhappy  cows,  but  they  stood 
patiently  and  never  complained,  though  sometimes 
I  know  they  must  have  nearly  frozen  in  the  bitter 
winds  that  blew  through  the  stable  on  winter 
nights.  They  were  lean  and  poor,  and  were 
never  in  good  health.  Besides  being  cold  they 
were  fed  on  very  poor  food. 

Jenkins  used  to  come  home  nearly  every  after- 
noon with  a  great  tub  in  the  back  of  his  cart  that 
was  full  of  what  he  called  "peeHngs."  It  was 
kitchen  stuff  that  he  asked  the  cooks  at  the  differ- 
ent houses  where  he  delivered  milk,  to  save  for 
him.  They  threw  rotten  vegetables,  fruit  parings, 
and  scraps  from  the  table  into  a  tub,  and  gave 
them  to  him  at  the  end  of  a  few  days.  A  sour, 
nasty  mess  it  always  was,  and  not  fit  to  give  any 
creature. 

Sometimes,  when  he  had  not  many  ' '  peelings, '  * 
he  would  go  to  town  and  get  a  load  of  decayed 
vegetables,  that  grocers  were  glad  to  have  him 
take  off  their  hands. 

This  food,  together  with  poor  hay,  made  the 
cows  give  very  poor  milk,  and  Jeiikins  used  to  put 
some  white  powder  in  it,  to  give  it  "  body,"  as  he 
said. 

Once  a  very  sad  thing  happened  about  the  milk, 
that  no  one  knew  about  but  Jenkins  and  his  wife. 
She  was  a  poor,  unhappy  creature,  very  frightened 
at  her  husband,  and  not  daring  to  speak  much  to 


i8 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


him.     She  was  not  a  clean  woman,  and  I  never 
saw  a  worse-looking  house  than  she  kept. 

She  used  to  do  very  queer  things,  that  I  know 
now  no  housekeeper  should  do.  I  have  seen  her 
catch  up  the  broom  to  pound  potatoes  in  the 
pot.  She  pounded  with  the  handle,  and  the  broom 
would  fly  up  and  down  in  the  air,  dropping  dust  into 
the  pot  where  the  potatoes  were.  Her  pan  of 
soft-mixed  bread  she  often  left  uncovered  in  the 
kitchen,  and  sometimes  the  hens  walked  in  and 
sat  in  it. 

The  children  used  to  play  in  mud  puddles 
about  the  door.  It  was  the  youngest  of  them  that 
sickened  with  some  kind  of  fever  early  in  the 
spring,  before  Jenkins  began  driving  the  cows  out 
to  pasture.  The  child  was  very  ill,  and  Mrs.  Jen- 
kins wanted  to  send  for  a  doctor,  but  her  husband 
would  not  let  her.  They  made  a  bed  in  the  kitchen, 
close  to  the  stove,  and  Mrs.  Jenkins  nursed  the 
child  as  best  she  could.  She  did  all  her  work  near 
by,  and  I  saw  her  several  times  wiping  the  child's 
face  with  the  cloth  that  she  used  for  washing  her 
milk  pans. 

Nobody  knew  outside  the  family  that  the  little 
girl  was  ill.  Jenkins  had  such  a  bad  name,  that 
none  of  the  neighbors  would  visit  them.  By-and- 
by  the  child  got  well,  and  a  week  or  two  later  Jen- 
kins came  home  with  quite  a  frightened  face,  and 
told  his  wife  that  the  husband  of  one  of  his  cus- 
tomers was  very  ill  with  typhoid  fever. 

After  a  time  the  gentleman  died,  and  the  cook 
told  Jenkins  that  the  doctor  wondered  how  he  could 


ONLY   A    CUR 


19 


have  taken  the  fever,  for  there  was  not  a  case  in 
town. 

There  was  a  widow  left  with  three  orphans,  and 
they  never  knew  that  they  had  to  blame  a  dirty, 
careless  milkman  for  taking  a  kind  husband  and 
father  from  them. 


v^  ««.,«,■. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   CRUEL   MILKMAN 

HAVE  said  that  Jenkins  spent  most  of 
his  days  in  idleness.  He  had  to  start 
out  very  early  in  the  morning,  in  order 

to  supply  his  customers  with  milk  for  breakfast. 

Oh,  how  ugly  he  used  to  be,  when  he  came  into 

the  stable  on  cold  winter  mornings,  before  the  sun 

was  up. 

He  would  hang  his  lantern  on  a  hook,  and  get 
his  milking  stool,  and  if  the  cows  did  not  step 
aside  just  to  suit  him,  he  would  seize  a  broom  or 
fork,  and  beat  them  cruelly. 

My  mother  and  I  slept  on  a  heap  of  straw  in  the 

corner  of  the  stable,  and  when  she  heard  his  step 

in  the  morning  she  always  roused  me,  so  that  we 

could  run  out-doors  as  soon  as  he  opened  the  stable 

door.     He  always  aimed  a  kick  at  us  as  we  passed, 

but  my  mother  taught  me  how  to  dodge  him. 

After  he  finished  milking,  he  took  the  pails  of 

milk  up  to  the  house  for  Mrs.  Jenkins  to  strain  and 

put  in  the  cans,  and  he  came  back  and  harnessed 

his  horse  to  the  cart.      His  horse  was  called  Toby, 

and  a  poor,  miserable,  broken-down  creature  he 
ao 


THE   CRUEL   MILKMAN 


21 


was.  He  was  weak  in  the  knees,  and  weak  in  the 
back,  and  weak  all  over,  and  Jenkins  had  to  beat 
him  all  the  time,  to  make  him  go.  He  had  been 
a  cab  horse,  and  his  mouth  had  been  jerked,  and 
twisted,  and  sawed  at.  till  one  would  think  there 
could  be  no  feeling  left  in  it ;  still  I  have  seen  him 
wince  and  curl  up  his  lip  when  Jenkins  thrust  in 
the  frosty  bit  on  a  winter's  morning. 

Poor  old  Toby  !  I  used  to  lie  on  my  straw  some- 
times and  wonder  he  did  not  cry  out  with  pain.  Cold 
and  half  starved  he  always  was  in  the  winter  time, 
and  often  with  raw  sores  on  his  body  that  Jenkins 
would  try  to  hide  by  putting  bits  of  cloth  under 
the  harness.  But  Toby  never  murmured,  and  he 
never  tried  to  kick  and  bite,  and  he  minded  the 
least  word  from  Jenkins,  and  if  he  swore  at  him, 
Toby  would  start  back,  or  step  up  quickly,  he  was 
so  anxious  to  please  him. 

After  Jenkins  put  him  in  the  cart,  and  took  in 
the  cans,  he  set  out  on  his  rounds.  My  mother, 
whose  name  was  Jess,  always  went  with  him.  f 
used  to  ask  her  why  she  followed  such  a  brute  of 
a  man,  and  she  would  hang  her  head,  and  say 
that  sometimes  she  got  a  bone  from  the  different 
houses  they  stopped  at.  But  that  was  not  the  whole 
reason.  She  liked  Jenkins  so  much,  that  she 
wanted  to  be  with  him. 

I  had  not  her  sweet  and  patient  disposition,  and 
I  would  not  go  with  her.  I  watched  her  out  of 
sight,  and  then  ran  up  to  the  house  to  see  if  Mrs. 
Jenkins  had  any  scraps  for  me.  I  nearly  always 
got  something,  for  she  pitied  me.  and  often  gave 


22 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


'me  a  kind  word  or  look  with  the  bits  of  food  that 
she  threw  to  me. 

When  Jenkins  come  home.  I  often  coaxed 
mother  to  run  about  and  see  some  of  the  neighbors' 
dogs  with  me.  But  she  never  would,  and  I  would 
not  leave  her.  So,  from  morning  to  night  we  had  to 
sneak  about,  keeping  out  of  Jenkins'  way  as  much 
as  we  could,  and  yet  trying  to  keep  him  in  sight. 
He  always  sauntered  about  with  a  pipe  in  his 
mouth,  and  his  hands  in  his  pockets,  growling  first 
at  his  wife  and  children,  and  then  at  his  dumb 
creatures. 

I  have  not  told  what  became  of  my  brothers 
arid  sisters.  One  rainy  day,  when  we  were  eight 
weeks  old,  Jenkins,  followed  by  two  or  three  of 
his  ragged,  dirty  children,  came  into  the  stable 
and  looked  at  us.  Then  he  began  to  swear 
because  we  were  so  ugly,  and  said  if  we  had  been 
good-looking,  he  might  have  sold  some  of  us. 
Mother  watched  him  anxiously,  and  fearing  some 
danger  to  her  puppies,  ran  and  jumped  in 
the  middle  of  us,  and  looked  pleadingly  up 
at  him. 

It  only  made  him  swear  the  more.  He  took 
one  pup  after  another,  and  right  there,  before  his 
children  and  my  poor  distracted  mother,  put  an 
end  to  their  lives.  Some  of  them  he  seized  by 
the  legs  and  knocked  against  the  stalls,  till  their 
brains  were  dashed  out,  others  he  killed  with  a 
fork.     It  was  very  terrible.     My      other  ran  up 

and  down  thpi  qt--  ;>''*'»    cr*-*:.TrT^;r>^  ,,,:*u    -,_:_     --  1    T 

_.. .^..       ^K.1.  .  zXi^iixi-^    Wltii     paiil,    cinU     i 

lay  weak   and   trembling,    and   expecting   every 


THE  CRUEL    MILKMAN 


^3 


instant  that  my  turn   would  come  next.     I    don't 
know  why  he  spared  me.     I  was  the  only  one  left. 

His  children  cried,  and  he  sent  them  out  of  the 
stable  and  went  out  himself.  Mother  picked  up 
all  the  puppies  and  brought  them  to  our  nest  in 
the  straw  and  licked  them,  and  tried  to  bring  them 
back  to  life  ;  but  it  was  of  no  use  ;  they  were 
quite  dead.  We  had  them  in  our  corner  of  the 
stable  for  some  day?,  till  Jenkins  discovered  them, 
and  swearing  horribly  at  us,  he  took  his  stable  fork 
and  threw  them  out  in  the  yard,  and  put  some 
earth  over  them. 

My  mother  never  seemed  the  same  after  this. 
She  was  weak  and  miserable,  and  though  she  was 
only  four  years  old,  she  seemed  like  an  old  dog. 
This  was  on  account  of  the  poor  food  she 
had  been  fed  on.  She  could  not  run  after 
Jenkins,  and  she  lay  on  our  heap  of  straw,  only 
turning  over  with  her  nose  the  scraps  of  food  I 
brought  her  to  eat.  One  day  she  licked  me 
gently,  wagged  her  tail,  and  died. 

As  I  sat  by  her,  feeling  lonely  and  miserable, 
Jenkins  came  into  the  stable.  I  could  not  bear  to 
look  at  him.  He  had  killed  my  mother.  There 
she  lay,  a  little,  gaunt,  scarred  creature,  starved 
and  V  onied  to  death  by  him.  Her  mouth  was 
half  open,  her  eyes  were  staring.  She  would 
never  again  look  kindly  at  me,  or  curl  up  to  me  at 
night  to  keep  me  warm.  Oh,  how  I  hated  her 
murderer  !  But  I  sat  quietly,  even  when  he  went 
up  and  turned  her  over  with  his  foot  to  see  if  she 
was  really  dead.     I  think  he  was  a  little  sorry,  for 


24 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


he  turned  scornfully  toward  me  and  said,  "She 
was  worth  two  of  you  ;  why  didn't  you  go  instead  ?' ' 
Still  I  kept  quiet  till  he  walked  up  to  me  and 
kicked  at  me.  My  heart  was  nearly  broken,  and  I 
could  stand  no  more.  I  flew  at  him  and  gave 
him  a  savage  bite  on  the  ankle. 

"Oho,"  he  said,  "so  you  are  going  to  be  a 
fighter,  are  you  ?  F 11  fix  you  for  that. ' '  His  face 
was  red  and  furious.  He  seized  me  by  the  back 
of  the  neck  and  carried  me  out  to  the  yard  where 
a  log  lay  on  the  ground.  "Bill,"  he  called  to 
one  of  his  children,  "bring  me  the  hatchet." 

He  laid  my  head  on  the  log  and  pressed  one 
hand  on  my  struggling  body.  I  was  now  a  year 
old  and  a  full-sized  dog.  There  was  a  quick, 
dreadful  pain,  and  he  had  cut  off  my  ear,  not  in 
the  way  they  cut  puppies'  ears,  but  close  to  my 
head,  so  close  that  he  cut  off  some  of  the  skin  be- 
yond it.  Then  he  cut  of  the  other  ear,  and,  turn- 
ing me  swiftly  round,  cut  off  my  tail  close  to  my 
body. 

Then  he  let  me  go  and  stood  looking  at  me  as 
I  rolled  on  the  ground  and  yelped  in  agony.  He 
was  in  such  a  passion  that  he  did  not  think  that 
people  passing  by  on  ;^he  road  might  hear  me^ 


■  »-e*^,S-'»fSSn«WH»'>»*l*in»'W* 


CHAPTER  III 


MY   KIND    DELIVERER    AND   MISS   LAURA 

HERE  was  a  young  man  going  by  on  a 
bicycle.  He  heard  my  screams,  and 
springing  off  his  bicycle,  came  hurrying 
up  the  path,  and  stood  among  us  before  Jenkins 
caught  sight  of  him. 

In  the  midst  of  my  pain,  I  heard  him  say  fiercely, 
"What  have  you  been  doing  to  that  dog ? " 

"I've  been  cuttin*  his  ears  for  fightin',  my 
young  gentleman,"  said  Jenkins.  "There  is  no 
law  to  prevent  that,  is  there  ? ' ' 

"  And  there  is  no  law  to  prevent  my  giving  you 
a  beating,"  said  the  young  man,  angrily.  In  a 
trice  he  had  seized  Jenkins  by  the  throat,  and  was 
pounding  him  with  all  his  might.  Mrs.  Jenkins 
came  and  stood  at  the  house  door,  crying,  but 
making  no  effort  to  help  her  husband. 

"Bring  me  a  towel,"  the  young  man  cried  to 
her,  after  he  had  stretched  Jenkins,  bruised  and 
frightened,  on  the  ground.  She  snatched  off  her 
apron,  and  ran  down  with  it,  and  the  young  man 
wrapped  me  in  it,  and  taking  me  carefully  in  his 
arms,  walked  down  the  path  to  the  gate.     There 

as 


cw^nMembiMMWtgjKtv 


26 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


;  i 


Ni 


were  some  little  boys  standing  there,  watching 
him,  their  mouths  wide  open  with  astonishment. 
"  Sonny,"  he  said  to  the  largest  of  them,  "  if  you 
will  come  behind  and  carry  this  dog,  I  will  give 
you  a  quarter. ' ' 

The  boy  tock  me,  and  we  set  out.  I  was  all 
smothered  up  in  a  cloth,  and  moaning  with  pain, 
but  still  I  looked  out  occasionally  to  see  which  way 
we  were  going.  We  took  the  road  to  the  town 
and  stopped  in  front  of  a  house  on  Washington 
Street.  The  young  man  leaned  his  bicycle  up 
against  the  house,  took  a  quarter  from  his  pocket 
and  put  it  in  the  boy's  hand,  and  lifting  me  gently 
in  his  arms,  went  up  a  lane  leading  to  the  back  of 
the  house. 

There  was  a  small  stable  there.  He  went  into 
it,  put  me  down  on  the  floor  and  uncovered  my 
body.  Some  boys  were  playing  about  the  stable, 
and  I  heard  them  say,  in  horrified  tones,  "Oh, 
Cousin  Harry,  what  is  the  matter  with  that  dog  ? ' ' 
"Hush,"  he  said.  "  Don't  make  a  fuss.  You, 
Jack,  go  down  to  the  kitchen  and  ask  Mary  for  a 
basin  of  warm  water  and  a  sponge,  and  don't  let 
your  mother  or  Laura  hear  you." 

A  few  minutes  later,  the  young  man  had  bathed 
my  bleeding  ears  and  tail,  and  had  rubbed  some- 
thing on  them  that  was  cool  and  pleasant,  and 
had  bandaged  them  firmly  with  strips  of  cotton. 
I  felt  much  better  and  was  able  to  look  about  me. 

I  was  in  a  small  stable,  that  was  evidently  not 
used  for  a  stable,  but  more  for  a  play-room.  There 
were  various  kinds  of  toys  scattered  about,  and  a 


MY    KIND    DELIVERER  AND    MISS    LAURA        ^^ 

swing  and  bar,  such  as  boys  love  to  twist  about  on, 
in  two  different  corners.  In  a  box  against  the 
wall  was  a  guinea  pig,  looking  at  me  in  an  in- 
terested way.  This  guinea  pig's  name  was  Jeff, 
and  he  and  I  became  good  friends.  A  long-haired 
French  rabbit  was  hopping  about,  and  a  tame 
white  rat  was  perched  on  the  shoulder  of  one  of 
the  boys,  and  kept  his  foothold  there,  no  matter 
how  suddenly  the  boy  moved.  There  were  so 
many  boys,  and  the  stable  was  so  small,  that  I  sup- 
pose he  was  afraid  he  would  get  stepped  on  if  he 
went  on  the  floor.  He  stared  hard  at  me  with  his 
little,  red  eyes,  and  never  even  glanced  at  a  queer- 
looking,  gray  cat  that  was  watching  me,  too,  from 
her  bed  in  the  back  of  the  vacant  horse  stall.  Out 
in  the  sunny  yard,  some  pigeons  were  pecking  at 
grain,  and  a  spaniel  lay  asleep  in  a  corner. 

I  had  never  seen  anything  like  this  before,  and 
my  wonder  at  it  almost  drove  the  pain  away. 
Mother  and  I  always  chased  rats  and  birds,  and 
once  we  killed  a  kitten.  While  I  was  puzzling 
over  it,  one  of  the  boys  cried  out,  "Here  is 
Laura  ! ' ' 

'  ♦  Take  that  rag  out  of  the  way, ' '  saic  Mr.  Harry, 
kicking  aside  the  old  apron  I  had  been  wrapped 
in,  and  that  was  stained  with  my  blood.  One  of 
the  boys  stuffed  it  into  a  barrel,  and  then  they  all 
looked  toward  the  house. 

A  young  girl,  holding  up  one  hand  to  shade  her 
eyes  from  the  sun,  was  cominsr  ud  the  walk  that 
led  from  the  house  to  the  stable.  I  thought  then 
that  I  never  had  seen  such  a  beautiful  girl,  and  I 


*'^-*«*fr»t  nt«; 


28 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


thihk  SO  Still.  She  was  tall  and  slender,  and  had 
lovely  brown  eyes  and  brown  hair,  and  a  sweet 
smile,  and  just  to  look  at  her  was  enough  to  make 
one  love  her.  I  stood  in  the  stable  door,  staring 
at  her  with  all  my  might. 

"Why.  what  a  funny  dog,"  she  said,  and 
stopped  short  to  looked  at  me.  Up  to  this.  I  had 
not  thought  what  a  quQer>looking  sight  I  must  be. 
Now  I  twisted  round  my  head,  saw  the  white  band- 
age  on  my  tail,  and  knowing  I  was  not  a  fit  spec- 
tacle for  a  pretty  young  lady  like  that,  I  slunk 
mto  a  corner. 

"  Poor  doggie,  have  I  hurt  your  feelings  } ' '  she 
said,  and  with  a  sweet  smile  at  the  boys,  she  passed 
by  them  and  came  up  to  the  guinea  pig's  box.  be- 
hmd  which  I  had  taken  refuge.  "What  is  the 
matter  with  your  head,  good  dog.V'  she  said, 
curiously,  as  she  stooped  over  me. 

"  He  has  a  cold  in  it."  said  one  of  the  boys 
with  a  laugh  ;  "  so  we  put  a  nightcap  on."  She 
drew  back,  and  turned  very  pale.  "Cousin 
Harry,  there  are  drops  of  blood  on  this  cotton. 
Who  has  hurt  this  dog  ? ' ' 

Dear  Laura. ' '  and  the  young  man  coming  up, 
laid  his  hand  on  her  shoulder,  "he  got  hurt,  and 
I  have  been  bandaging  him." 
"  Who  hurt  him  ?  " 
"  I  had  rather  not  tell  you." 
"But  I  wish  to  know."     Her  voice  was   as 
gentle  as  ever,  but  she  spoke  so  decidedly  that 
-6  young  man  was  obliged  to  tell  her  everything. 
All  the  time  he  was  speaking,  she  kept  touching 


MY    KIND    DELIVERER  AND   MISS   LAURA       2g 

me  gently  with  her  fingers.  When  he  had  fin- 
ished his  account  of  rescuing  me  from  Jenkins, 
she  said,  quietly  : 

"  You  will  have  the  man  punished  ?  " 
"What  is  the  use ?   That  won't  stop  him  from 
being  cruel." 

"  It  will  put  a  check  on  his  cruelty." 
*  •  I  don't  think  it  would  do  any  good, ' '  said  the 
young  man,  doggedly. 

"  Cousin  Harry  !  "  and  the  young  girl  stood  up 
very  straight  and  tall,  her  brown  eyes  flashing, 
and  one  hand  pointing  at  me  ;   "will  you  let  that 
pass  ?    That  animal  has  been  wronged,  it  looks 
to  you  to  right  it.     The  coward  who  has  maimed 
it  for  life   should   be  punished.     A  child  has  a 
voice  to  tell  its  wrong— a  poor,   dumb  creature 
must   suffer  in  silence  ;    in  bitter,  bitter  silence. 
And, ' '  eagerly,  as  the  young  man  tried  to  inter- 
rupt her,    "you  are  doing  the  man  himself  an 
injustice.     If  he  is  bad  enough  to  ill-treat  his  dog, 
he  will  ill-treat  his  wife  and  children.     If  he  is 
checked  and  punished  now  for  his  cruelty,  he  may 
reform.     And   even   if  his  wicked   heart  is   not 
changed,  he  will  be  obliged  to  treat  them  with 
outward  kindness,  through  fear  of  punishment. " 

The  young  man  looked  convinced,  and  almost 
as  ashamed  as  if  he  had  been  the  one  to  crop  my 
ears.  "What  do  you  want  me  to  do  .? "  he  said, 
slowly,  and  looking  sheepishly  at  the  boys  who 
were  staring  open-mouthed  at  him  and  the  young 
girl. 

The  giri  pulled  a  little  watch  from  her  belt.     • '  I 


i 


30 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


want  you  to  report  that  man  immediately.  It  is 
now  five  o'clock.  I  will  go  down  to  the  police 
station  with  you,  if  you  like. ' ' 

"Very  well,"   he   said,  his  face  brightening, 
and  together  they  went  off  to  the  house. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   MORRIS    BOYS   ADD   TO    MY    NAME 


IHE  boys  watched  them  out  of  sight,  then 
one  of  them,  whose  name  I  afterward 
learned  was  Jack,  and  who  came  next 
to  Miss  Laura  in  age,  gave  a  low  whistle  and  said 
"  Doesn't  the  old  lady  come  out  strong  when  any 
one  or  anything  gets  abused?     I'll  never  forget 
the  day  she  found  me  setting  Jim  on  that  black 
cat  of  the  Wilsons.     She  scolded  me,  and  then 
she  cried,  till  I  didn't  know  where  to  look.  Plague 
on  it,  how  was  I  going  to  know  he'd  kill  the  old 
cat  ?     I  only  wanted  to  drive  it  out  of  the  yard. 
Come  on,  let's  look  at  the  dog." 

They  all  came  and  bent  over  me,  as  I  lay 
on  the  floor  in  my  corner.  I  wasn't  much  used 
to  boys,  and  I  didn't  know  how  they  would 
treat  me.  But  I  soon  found  by  the  way  they 
handled  me  and  talked  to  me,  that  they  knew 
a  good  deal  about  dogs,  and  were  accustomed 
to  treat  them  kindly.  It  seemed  very  strange 
t^o  have  them  pat  me,  and  call  me  "good 
dog."  No  one  had  ever  said  that  to  me  before 
to-day. 

3* 


I'i 


32 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


"  He*  s  not  much  of  a  beauty,  is  he  ? "  said  one 
of  the  boys,  whom  they  called  Tom. 

"  Not  by  a  long  shot, ' '  said  Jack  Morris,  with  a 
laugh.  "Not  any  nearer  the  beauty  mark  than 
yourself,  Tom." 

Tom  flew  at  him,  and  they  had  a  scuffle. 
The  other  boys  paid  no  attention  to  them,  but 
went  on  looking  at  me.  One  of  them,  a  little  boy 
with  eyes  Hke  Miss  Laura's,  said,  "What  did 
Cousin  Harry  say  the  dog's  name  was .? " 

"Joe,"  answered  another  boy.  "The  little 
chap  that  carried  him  home  told  him." 

"We  might  call  him  •  Ugly  Joe  '  then, ' '  said  a 
lad  with  a  round,  fat  face,  and  laughing  eyes.  I 
wondered  very  much  who  this  boy  was,  and,  later 
on,  I  found  out  that  he  was  another  of  Miss 
Laura's  brothers,  and  his  name  was  Ned.  There 
seemed  to  be  no  end  to  the  Morris  boys. 

"I  don't  think  Laura  would  like  that,"  said 
Jack  Morris,  suddenly  coming  up  behind  him. 
He  was  very  hot.  and  was  breathing  fast,  but  his 
manner  was  as  cool  as  if  he  had  never  left  the 
group  about  me.  He  had  beaten  Tom,  who  was 
sitting  on  a  box.  ruefully  surveying  a  hole  in  his 
jacket.  "You  see,"  he  went  on,  gaspingly  "if 
you  call  him  'Ugly  Joe,'  her  ladyship  will  say  that 
you  are  wounding  the  dear  dog's  feelings. 
'  Beautiful  Joe,"  would  be  more  to  her  liking." 

A  shout  went  up  from  the  boys.     I  didn't  won- 
der that  they  laughed.     Plain-looking  I   naturally 
was ;    but   I   must   havp   hef-v    hi-i^f--^ 
bandages. 


in 


i.^ 


little 


THE   MORRIS    BOYS   ADD   TO    MY    NAME         33 

"  •  Beautiful  Joe,'  then  let  it  be  !  "  they  cried. 
"Let  us  go  and  tell  mother,  and  ask  her  to  give 
us  something  for  our  beauty  to  eat." 

They  all  trooped  out  of  the  stable,  and  I  was 
very  sorry,  for  when  they  were  with  me,  I  did  not 
mind  so  much  the  tingling  in  my  ears,  and  the 
terrible  pain  in  my  back.  They  soon  brought  me 
some  nice  food,  but  I  cOuld  not  touch  it ;  so  they 
went  away  to  their  play,  and  I  lay  in  the  box  they 
put  me  in,  trembling  with  pain,  and  wishing  that 
the  pretty  young  lady  was  there,  to  stroke  me  with 
her  gentle  fingers. 

By-and-by  it  got  dark.    The  boys  finished  their 
play,  and  went  into  the  house,  and  I  saw  lights 
twinkling  in  the  windows.     I  felt  lonely  and  mis- 
erable in  this  strange  place.     I  would  not  have 
gone  back  to  Jenkins'  for  the  world,  still  it  was 
the  only  home  I  had  known,  and  though  I  felt 
that  I  should  be  happy  here,  I  had  not  yet  gotten 
used  to  the  change.     Then  the  pain  all  through  my 
body  was  dreadful.     My  head  seemed  to  be  on 
fire,  and  there  were  sharp,  darting  pains  up  and 
down  my  backbone.     I  did  not  dare  to  howl,  lest 
I  should  make  the  big  dog,  Jim,  angry.      He  was 
sleeping  in  a  kennel,  out  in  the  yard. 

The  stable  was  very  quiet.  Up  in  the  loft 
above,  some  rabbits  that  I  had  heard  running 
about  had  now  gone  to  sleep.  The  guinea  pig 
was  nestling  in  the  corner  of  his  box,  and  the  cat 

and  the  tame  rat  had  scampered  into  the  house 
long  ago. 

At  last  I  could  bear  the  pain  no  longer.     I  sat 


34 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


lip  in  my  box  and  looked  about  me.     I  felt  as  if 
I  was  going  to  die,  and,  though  I  was  very  weak, 
there  was  something  inside  me  that  made  me  feel 
as  if  I  w.aited  to  crawl  away  somewhere  out  of 
sight.     I  slunk  out  into  the  yard,  and  along  the 
stable  wall,  where  there  was  a  thick  clump  of  rasp- 
berry bushes.     I   crept  in   among  them  and  lay 
down  in  the  damp  earth.     I  tried  to  scratch  ofif 
my  bandages,    but    they   were   fastened   on   too 
firmly,  and  I  could  not  do  it.      I  thought  about 
my  poor  mother,  and  wished  she  was  here  to  lick 
my  sore  ears.     Though  she  was  so  unhappy  her- 
self, she  never  wanted  to  see  me  suffer.     If  I  had 
not^disobeyed  her,  I  would  not  now  be  suffering 
so  much  pain.     She  had  told  me  again  and  again 
not  to  snap  at  Jenkins,  for  it  made  him  worse. 

In  the  midst  of  my  trouble  I  heard  a  soft  voice 
calHng,  "  Joe  !  Joe  !  "  It  was  Miss  Laura's  voice, 
but  I  felt  as  if  there  were  weights  on  my  paws,  and 
I  could  not  go  to  her. 

"Joe  !  Joe  !  "  she  said,  again.  She  was  going 
up  the  walk  to  the  stable,  holding  up  a  lighted 
lamp  in  her  hand.  She  had  on  a  white  dress,  and 
I  watched  her  till  she  disappeared  in  the  stable. 
She  did  not  stay  long  in  there.  She  came  out 
and  stood  on  the  gravel.  "Joe,  Joe,  Beautiful 
Joe,  where  are  you  ?  You  are  hiding  somewhere, 
but  I  shall  find  you."  Then  she  came  right  to 
the  spot  where  I  was.  "  Poor  doggie,"  she  said, 
stooping  down  and  patting  me.  "  Are  you  very 
miserable,  and  did  you  crawl  away  to  die?  I 
have  had  dogs  to  do  that  before,  but  I  am  not 


;lt  as  if 
y  weak, 
me  feel 

out  of 
)ng  the 
9f  rasp- 
.nd  lay 
tch  off 
on    too 
t  about 
to  lick 
py  her- 
f  I  had 
iffering 
I  again 
-se. 
"t  voice 

voice, 
vs,  and 

going 
ighted 
5s,  and 
stable, 
le  out 
autiful 
*vhere, 
ght  to 
■  said, 
Li  very 
e?  I 
tn  not 


TKE   MORRIS    BOYS   ADD   TO    MY    NAME         35 

going  to  let  you  die.  Joe."  And  she  set  her  lamp 
on  the  ground,  and  took  me  in  her  arms. 

I  was  very  thin  then,  not  nearly  so  fat  as  I  am 
now,  still  I  was  quite  an  armful  for  her.  But  she 
did  not  seem  to  find  me  heavy.  She  took  me 
right  into  the  house,  through  the  back  door,  and 
down  a  long  flight  of  steps,  across  a  hall,  and  into 
a  snug  kitchen. 

"For  the  land  sakes.  Miss  Laura,"  said  a 
woman  who  was  bending  over  a  stove,  "  what 
have  you  got  there  ? ' ' 

"A  poor  sick  dog.  Mary."  said  Miss  Laura, 
seating  herself  on  a  chair.  "Will  you  please 
warm  a  little  milk  for  him  }  And  have  you  a  box 
or  a  basket  down  here  that  he  can  lie  in .? " 

"I  guess  so, ' '  said  the  woman  ;  "  but  he' s  awful 
dirty;  you're  not  going  to  let  him  sleep  in  the 
house,  are  you  ? ' ' 

' '  Only  for  to-night.  He  is  very  ill.  A  dread- 
ful thing  happened  to  him,  Mary."  And  Miss 
Laura  went  on  to  tell  her  how  my  ears  had  been 
cut  off. 

"Oh,  that's  the  dog  the  boys  were  talking 
about."  said  the  woman.  "Poor  creature  he's 
welcome  to  all  I  can  do  for  him. ' '  She  opened  a 
closet  door,  and  brought  out  a  box,  and  folded  a 
piece  of  blanket  for  me  to  lie  on.  Then  she 
heated  some  milk  in  a  saucepan,  and  poured  it  in 
a  saucer,  and  watched  me  while  Miss  Laura  went 
upstairs  to  get  a  little  bottle  of  something  that 
would  make  me  sleep.  They  poured  a  few^drops 
of  this  medicine  into  the  milk  and  offered  it  to  me 


36 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


I  lapped  a  little,  but  I  could  not  finish  it,  even 
though  Miss  Laura  coaxed  me  very  gently  to  do 
so.  She  dipped  her  finger  in  the  milk  and  held  it 
out  to  me,  and  though  I  did  not  want  it,  I  could 
not  be  ungrateful  enough  to  refuse  to  lick  her  fin- 
ger as  often  as  she  offered  it  to  me.  After  the 
milk  was  gone,  Mary  lifted  up  my  box,  and  car- 
ried me  into  the  washroom  that  was  off  the 
kitchen. 

I  soon  fell  sound  asleep,  and  could  not  rouse 
myself  through  the  night,  even  though  I  both 
smelled  and  heard  some  one  coming  near  me 
several  times.  The  next  morning  I  found  out 
that 'it  was  Miss  Laura.  Whenever  there  was  a 
sick  animal  in  the  house,  no  matter  if  it  was  only 
the  tame  rat,  she  would  get  up  two  or  three  times 
in  the  night,  to  see  if  there  was  anything  she  could 
do  to  make  it  more  comfortable. 


CHAPTER  V 


MY   NEW   HOME   AND   A   SELFISH    LADY 

DON'T  believe  that  a  dog  could  have 
fallen  into  a  happier  home  than  I  did. 
In  a  ^v%ek.  thanks  to  good  nursing,  good 
food,  and  kind  words,    I  was  almost  well      Mr 
Harry  washed  and  dressed  my  sore  ears  and  tail 
every  day  till  he  went  home,  and  one  day.  he  and 
the  boys  gave  me  a  bath  out  in  the  stable.     They 
earned  out  a  tub  of  warm  water  and  stood  me  in 
It.     I  had  never  been  washed  before  in  my  life 
and  It  felt  very  queer.     Miss  Laura  stood  by  laugh- 
ing and  encouraging  me  not  to  mind  the  streams 
of  water  trickling  all  over  me.     I  couldn't  help 
wondermg  what  Jenkins  would  have  said  if  he 
could  have  seen  me  in  that  tub. 

That  reminds  me  to  say,  that  two  days  after  I 
arrived  at  the  Morrises',  Jack,  followed  by  all  the 
other  boys,  came  running  into  the  stable.  He  had 
a  newspaper  in  his  hand,  and  with  a  great  deal  of 
laughmg  and  joking,  read  this  to  me  • 


37 


38 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Then  he  said,  "What  do  you  think  of  that, 
Joe  ?  Five  dollars  apiece  for  your  ears  and  your 
tail  thrown  in.  That's  all  they're  worth  in  the 
eyes  of  the  law.  Jenkins  has  had  his  fun  and 
you'll  go  through  life  worth  about  three-quarters  of 
a  dog.  I'd  lash  rascals  like  that.  Tie  them  up 
and  flog  them  till  they  were  scarred  and  mutilated 
a  httle  bit  themselves.  Just  wait  till  I'm  president. 
But  there's  some  more,  old  fellow.  Listen  :  '  Our 
reporter  visited  the  house  of  the  above-mentioned 
Jenkins,  and  found  a  most  deplorable  state  of 
affairs.  The  house,  yard  and  stable  were  inde- 
scribably filthy.  His  horse  bears  the  marks  of 
ill-usage,  and  is  in  an  emaciated  condition.  His 
cows  arj  plastered  up  with  mud  and  filth,  and  are 
covered  with  vermin.  Where  is  our  health  in- 
spector, that  he  does  not  exercise  a  more  watchful 
supervision  over  establishments  of  this  kind  ?  To 
allow  milk  from  an  unclean  place  like  this  to  be 
sold  in  the  town,  is  endangering  the  health  of  its 
inhabitants.  Upon  inquiry,  it  was  found  that  the 
man  Jenkins  bears  a  very  bad  character.  Steps 
are  being  taken  to  have  his  wife  and  children 
removed  from  him.'  " 

Jack  threw  the  paper  into  my  box,  and  he  and 
the  other  boys  gave  three  cheers  for  the  Daily  News 
and  then  ran  away.  How  glad  I  was  !  It  did  not 
matter  so  much  for  me,  for  I  had  escaped  him,  but 
now  that  it  had  been  found  out  what  a  cruel  man 
he  was,  there  would  be  a  restraint  upon  him,  and 
poor  Toby  and  the  cows  would  have  a  happier  time. 

I   was  going  to  tell  about  the  Morris  family. 


;»n'*l»^''»*««Wi»B«i4«(5 , 


MY   NEW   HOME   AND   A   SELFISH    LADY         39 

There  were  Mr.  Morris,  who  was  a  clergyman  and 
preached  in  a  church  in  Fairport ;  Mrs.  Morris, 
his  wife  ;  Miss  Laura,  who  was  the  eldest  of  the 
family  ;  then  Jack,  Ned,  Carl,  and  Willie.  I  think 
one  reason  why  they  were  such  a  good  family  was 
because  Mrs.  Morris  was  such  a  good  woman. 
She  loved  her  husband  and  children,  and  did 
everything  she  could  to  make  them  happy. 

Mr.  Morris  was  a  very  busy  man  and  rarely 
interfered  in  household  affairs.  Mrs.  Morris  was 
the  one  who  said  what  was  to  be  done  and  what 
was  not  to  be  done.  Even  then,  when  I  was  a 
young  dog,  I  used  to  think  that  she  was  very  wise. 
There  was  never  any  noise  or  confusion  in  the 
house,  and  though  there  was  a  great  deal  of  work 
to  be  done,  everything  went  on  smoothly  and 
pleasantly,  and  no  one  ever  got  angry  and  scolded 
as  they  did  in  the  Jenkins  family. 

Mrs.  Morris  was  very  particular  about  money 
matters.     Whenever   the   boys   came   to   her  for 
money  to  get  such  things  as  candy  and  ice  cream 
expensive  toys,  and  other  things  that  boys  often 
crave,  she  asked  them  why  they  wanted  them.    If 
it  was  for  some  selfish  reason,  she  said,  firmly  : 
"  No,  my  children  ;  we  are  not  rich  people,  and  we 
must  save  our  money  for  your  education.     I  can- 
not buy  you  foolish  things. ' ' 

If  they  asked  her  for  money  for  books  or  some- 
thmg  to  make  their  pet  animals  more  comfortable, 
or  for  their  outdoor  games,  she  gave  it  to  them 
wilhngly.  Her  ideas  about  the  bringing  up  of 
children  I  cannot  explain  as  clearly  as  she  can  her- 


«  I 


:! 


40 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


self,  SO  I  will  give  part  of  a  conversation  that  she 
had  with  a  lady  who  was  calling  on  her  shortly 
after  I  came  to  Washington  Street. 

I  happened  to  be  in  the  house  at  the  time. 
Indeed,  I  used  to  spend  the  greater  part  of  my 
time  in  the  house.  Jack  one  day  looked  at  me, 
and  exclaimed  :  ' '  Why  does  that  dog  stalk  about, 
first  after  one  and  then  after  another,  looking  at  us 
with  such  solemn  eyes  ?' ' 

I  wished  that  I  could  speak  to  tell  him  that  I 
had  so  long  been  used  to  seeing  animals  kicked 
about  and  trodden  upon,  that  I  could  not  get  used 
to  the  change.  It  seemed  too  good  to  be  true.  I 
could  scarcely  believe  that  dumb  animals  had 
rights  ;  but  while  it  lasted,  and  human  beings  were 
so  kind  to  me,  I  wanted  to  be  with  them  all  the 
time.  Miss  Laura  understood.  She  drew  my 
head  up  to  her  lap,  and  put  her  face  down  to  me  : 
"You  like  to  be  with  us,  don't  you,  Joe  ?  Stay  in 
the  house  as  much  as  you  like.  Jack  doesn't  mind, 
though  he  speaks  so  sharply.  When  you  get  tired 
of  us  go  out  in  the  garden  and  have  a  romp  with 
Jim." 

But  I  must  return  to  the  conversation  I  referred 
to.  It  was  one  fine  June  day,  and  Mrs.  Morris 
was  sewing  in  a  rocking-chair  by  the  window.  I 
was  beside  her,  sitting  on  a  hassock,  so  that  I  could 
look  out  into  the  street.  Dogs  love  variety  and 
excitement,  and  like  to  see  what  is  going  on  out- 
doors as  well  as  human  beings.  A  carriage  drove 
up  lu  lHc  uuur,  aiiQ  a  iiiiciy-urcssua  iaay  got  GUI 
and  came  up  the  steps. 


MY   NEW    HOME   AND   A   SELFISH    '.ADY 


41 


that  she 
shortly 

le  time. 
t  of  my 
at  me, 
i  about, 
ig  at  us 

1  that  I 
kicked 
;et  used 
rue.  I 
lis  had 
gs  were 
all  the 
ew  my 
to  me  : 
Stay  in 
t  mind, 
et  tired 
ip  with 

eferred 
Morris 
ow.  I 
I  could 
;ty  and 
Dn  out- 
drove 
got  out 


Mrs.  Morris  seemed  glad  to  see  her,  and  called 
her  Mrs.  Montague.  I  was  pleased  with  her,  for 
she  had  some  kind  of  perfume  about  her  that  I 
liked  to  smell.  So  I  went  and  sat  on  the  hearth 
rug  quite  near  her. 

They  had  a  little  talk  about  things  I  did  not 
understand  and  then  the  lady' s  eyes  fell  on  me. 
She  looked  at  me  through  a  bit  of  glass  that  was 
hanging  by  a  chain  from  her  neck,,  and  pulled  away 
her  beautiful  dress  lest  I  should  touch  it. 

I  did  not  care  any  longer  for  the  perfume,  and 
went  away  and  sat  very  straight  and  stiff  at  Mrs. 
Morris'  feet.     The  lady's  eyes  still  followed  me. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,  Mr ).  Morris,"  she  said; 
"but  that  is  a  very  queer-looking  dog  you  have 
there." 

"Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Morris,  quietly  ;  "he  is  not 
a  handsome  dog." 

"And  he  is  a  new  one,  isn't  he?"  said  Mrs. 
Montague. 

"Yes." 

"  And  that  makes " 


' '  Two  dogs,  a  cat,  fifteen  or  twenty  rabbits,  a 
rat,  about  a  dozen  canaries,  and  two  dozen  gold- 
fish, I  don't  know  how  many  pigeons,  a  few  ban- 
tams, a  guinea  pig,  and — well,  I  don't  think 
there  is  anything  more." 

They  both  laughed,  and  Mrs.  Montague  said  : 
"You  have  quite  a  menagerie.  My  father  would 
never  allow  one  of  his  children  to  keep  a  pet  ani- 
mal. He  said  it  would  make  his  girls  rough  and 
noisy  to  romp  about  the  house  with  cats,  and  his 


42 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


I  :■ 


■  boys  would  look  like  rowdies  if  they  went  about 
with  dogs  at  their  heels. " 

"  I  have  never  found  that  it  made  my  children 
more  rough  to  play  with  their  pets,"   said  Mrs 
Morns. 

"No.  I  should  think  not,"  said  the  lady,  Ian- 
g«.dly.  ..  Your  boys  are  the  most  gentlemanly 
ads  in  Fairport,  and  as  for  Laura,  she  is  a  perfect 
httle  lady.  I  like  so  much  to  have  them  come  and 
see  Charlie.  They  wake  him  up,  and  yet  don't 
make  him  naughty." 

"They  enjoyed  their  last  visit  very  much  " 
said  Mrs.    Morris.      "By  the  way,  I  have  heaM 
them  talking  about  getting  Charlie  a  dog." 
_      "  Oh  !  "  cried  the  lady,  with  a  little  shudder. 

beg  them  not  to.     I  cannot  sanction  that.    I  hate 
dogs. 

"Why  do  you  hate  them.?"  asked  Mrs.  Mor- 
ns, gently. 

"They  are  such  dirty  things  ;  they  always  smell 
and  have  vermin  on  them. ' ' 

"A  dog,"  said  Mrs.  Morris,  -is  something 
like  a  child.  If  you  want  it  clean  and  pleasant 
you  have  got  to  keep  it  so.  This  dog's  skin  is  as 
clean  as  yours  or  mine.  Hold  still.  Joe. ' '  and  she 
brushed  the  hair  on  my  back  the  wrong  way.  and 
showed  Mrs.  Montague  how  pink  and  free  from 
dust  my  skin  was. 

Mrs.  Montague  looked  at  me  more  kindly  and 
even  held  out  the  tips  of  her  fingers  to  me.     I  did 

not  lick   thpm  T    r^rjUr   r.«,^11«  J    ^1.,  ,       ,  _ 

-       ;■     '  -^-v  ^xiiciicu  mem,  ana  she  drew 
her  hand  back  again. 


MY    NEW    HOME   AND   A   SELFISH    LADY 


43 


' '  You  have  never  been  brought  in  contact  with 
the  lower  creation  as  I  have,"  said  Mrs.  Morris  ; 
"just  let  me  tell  you,  in  a  few  words,  what  a  help 
dumb  animals  have  been  to  me  in  the  up-bringing 
of  my  children — my  boys,  especially.  When  I 
was  a  young  married  woman,  going  about  the 
slums  of  New  York  with  my  husband,  I  used  to 
come  home  and  look  at  my  two  babies  as  they  lay 
in  their  little  cots,  and  say  to  him,  '  What  are  we 
going  to  do  to  keep  these  children  from  selfishness 
— the  curse  of  the  world  ?' 

' '  •  Get  them  to  do  something  for  somebody 
outside  themselves,'  he  always  said.  And  I  have 
tried  to  act  on  tha*"  principle.  Laura  is  naturally 
unselfish.  With  her  tiny,  baby  fingers,  she  would 
take  food  from  her  own  mouth  and  put  it  into 
Jack's,  if  we  did  not  watch  her.  I  have  never 
had  any  trouble  with  her.  But  the  boys  were  born 
selfish,  tiresomely,  disgustingly  selfish.  They  were 
good  boys  in  many  ways.  As  they  grew  older, 
they  were  respectful,  obedient,  they  were  not 
untidy,  and  not  particularly  rough,  but  their  one 
thought  was  for  themselves — each  one  for  himself, 
and  they  used  to  quarrel  with  each  other  in  regard 
to  their  rights.  While  we  were  in  New  York,  we 
had  only  a  small,  back  yard.  When  we  came 
here,  I  said,  '  I  am  going  to  try  an  experiment.' 
We  got  this  house  because  it  had  a  large  garden, 
and  a  stable  that  would  do  for  the  boys  to  play  in. 
Then  I  got  them  together,  and  had  a  little  serious 
talk.  I  said  I  was  not  pleased  with  the  way  in 
which  they  were  living.     They  did  nothing  for  any 


u 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


one  but  themselves  from  morning  to  night.     If  I 
asked  them  to  do  an  errand  for  me,  it  was  done 
unwilhngly.     Of   course.   I  knew  they  had  their 
school  for  a  part  of  the  day.  but  they  had  a  good 
deal  of  leisure  time  when  they  might  do  something 
for  some  one  else.     I  asked  them  if  they  thought 
they  were  going  to  make  real,  manly  Christian  boys 
at  this  rate,  and  they  said  no.     Then  I  asked  them 
what  we  should  do  about  it.     They  all  said.  '  You 
tell  us  mother,  and  we'll  do  as  you  say.'     I  pro- 
posed a  series  of  tasks.     Each  one  to  do  something 
for   somebody,  outside   and   apart  from  himself 
every  day  of  his  life.     They  all  agreed  to  this,  and 
told  me  to  allot  the  tasks.     If  I  could  have  afforded 
It,  I  would  have  gotten  a  horse  and  cow,  and  had 
them  take  charge  of  them  ;  but  I  could  not  do 
that,  so  I  invested  in  a  pair  of  rabbits  for  Jack   a 
pair  of  canaries  for  Carl,   pigeons  for  Ned.  and 
bantams   for  Willie.     I   brought  these  creatures 
home,  put  them  into  their  hands,  and  told  them  to 
provide  for  them.  ,  They  were  delighted  with  my 
choice,  and  it  was  very  amusing  to  see  them  scurry- 
ing about  to  provide  food  and  shelter  for  their  pets, 
and  hear  their  consultations  with  other  boys     The 
end  of  it  all  is,  that  I  am  perfectly  satisfied  with 
my  experiment.      My  boys,    in   caring  for   these 
dumb  creatures,  have  become  unselfish  and  thought- 
ful.    They  had  rather  go  to  school  without  their 
own  breakfast  than  have  the  inmates  of  the  stable 
go  hungry.     They  are  getting  a  humane  education 
a  heart  education,  added  to  the  intellectual  educal 
tion  of  their  schools.     Then  it  keeps  them  at  home. 


MY    NEW    HOME    AND    A    SELFISH    LADY         45 

I  used  to  be  worried  with  the  lingering  about  street 
corners,  the  dawdhng  around  with  other  boys,  and 
the  idle,  often  worse  than  idle,  talk  indulged  in. 
Now  they  have  something  to  do,  they  are  men  of 
business.  They  are  always  hammering  and  pound- 
ing at  boxes  and  partitions  out  there  in  the  stable, 
or  cleaning  up,  and  if  they  are  sent  out  on  an 
errand,  they  do  it  and  come  right  home.  I  don't 
mean  to  say  that  we  have  deprived  them  of  liberty. 
They  have  their  days  for  base-ball,  and  foot-ball, 
and  excursions  to  the  woods,  but  they  have  so  much 
to  do  at  home,  that  they  won't  go  away  unless  for 
a  specific  purpose." 

While  Mrs.  Morris  was  talking,  her  visitor 
leaned  forward  in  her  chair,  and  listened  atten- 
tively. When  she  finished,  Mrs.  Montague  said, 
quietly,  "  Thank  you,  I  am  glad  that  you  told  me 
this.     I  shall  get  Charlie  a  dog." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,"  replied  Mrs. 
Morris.  "  It  will  be  a  good  thing  for  your  little 
boy.  I  should  not  wish  my  boys  to  be  without  a 
good,  faithful  dog.  A  child  can  learn  many  a 
lesson  from  a  dog.  This  one,"  pointing  to  me, 
"might  be  held  up  as  an  example  to  many  a 
human  being.  He  is  patient,  quiet,  and  obedient. 
My  husband  says  that  he  reminds  him  of  three , 
words  in  the  Bible— '  through  much  tribulation.'  " 
"Why  does  he  say  that.?"  asked  Mrs.  Mon- 
tague, curiously. 

"Because  he  came  to  us  from  a  very  unhappy 
home."  And  Mrs.  Morris  went  on  to  tell  her 
friend  what  she  knew  of  my  early  days. 


46 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


When  she  stopped,  Mrs.  Montague's  face  was 
shocked  and  pained.  "How  dreadful  to  think 
that  there  are  such  creatures  as  that  man  Jenkins 
in  the  world.  And  you  say  that  he  has  a  wife  and 
children.  Mrs.  Morris,  tell  me  plainly,  are  there 
many  such  unhappy  homes  in  Fairport?" 

Mrs.  Morris  hesitated  for  a  minute,  then  she 
sa,d.  earnestly:  -My  dear  friend,  if  you  could 
see  all  the  wickedness,  and  cruelty,  and  vileness, 
that  .s  practised  in  this  little  town  of  ours  in  one 
night,  you  could  not  rest  in  your  bed." 

Mrs.  Montague  looked  dazed.  "  I  did  not 
dream  that  it  was  as  bad  as  that, ' '  she  said.  •  ■  Are 
vfe  worse  than  other  towns .' " 

"  No  ;  not  worse,  but  bad  enough.     Over  and 
over  again  the  saying  is  true,  one-half  the  world 
does  not  know  how  the  other  half  lives.     How 
can  all  this  misery  touch  you  ?     You  live  in  your 
lovely  house  out  of  the  town.     When  you  come  in 
you  dnve  about,  do  your  shopping,  make  calls.' 
and  go  home  again.     You  never  visit  the  poorer 
streets      The  people  from  them  never  come  to 
you.     You  are  rich,  your  people  before  you  were 
nch,  you  live  m  a  state  of  isolation. " 

• '  But  that  is  not  right. ' '  said  the  lady  in  a  wail- 
■ng  voice.     ..  I  have  been   thinking  about   this 
^natter  lately.     I  .ead  a  great  deal  I  the  pape 
about  the  misery  of  the  lower  classes,  and  I  think 
we  ncher  ones  ought  to  do  something  to  help  them. 
Mrs.  Morns,  what  can  I  do  ?" 

The   tears    came   in    MrQ     lu^..;.'    ^,.-_      ^, 
looked  at  the  little,  frail  lady,  and  said!  simpjy ! 


's  face  was 
il  to  think 
m  Jenkins 
a  wife  and 
,  are  there 


> »» 


,  then  she 
you  could 
i  vileness, 
irs  in  one 

1  did  not 
id.    "Are 

Over  and 
:he  world 
is.  How 
i  in  your 
come  in, 
ke  calls, 
le  poorer 
come  to 
yon  were 

n  a  wail- 
out    this 

2  papers 
1  I  think 
Ip  them. 

:s.  She 
simply  : 


MY   NEW   HOME   AND   A   SELFISH    LADY         47 

"  Dear  Mrs.  Montague,  I  think  the  root  of  the 
whole  matter  lies  in  thi; .  The  Lord  made  us  all 
one  family.  We  are  all  brothers  and  sisters.  The 
lowest  woman  is  your  sister  and  my  sister.  The 
man  lying  in  the  gutter  is  our  brother.  What 
should  we  do  to  help  these  members  of  our  com- 
mon family,  who  are  not  as  well  off  as  we  are  ? 
We  should  share  our  last  crust  with  them.  You 
and  I,  but  for  God's  grace  in  placing  us  in  differ- 
ent surroundings,  might  be  in  their  places.  I 
think  it  is  wicked  neglect,  criminal  neglect  in  us 
to  ignore  this  fact. ' ' 

"  It  is,  it  is,"  said  Mrs.  Montague,  in  a  despair- 
ing voice.  "I  can't  help  feehng  it.  Tell  me 
something  I  can  do  to  help  some  one." 

Mrs.  Morris  sank  back  in  her  chair,  her  face 
very  sad,  and  yet  with  something  Hke  pleasure  in 
her  eyes  as  she  looked  at  her  caller.  "Your 
washerwoman,"  she  said,  "has  a  drunken  hus- 
band and  a  cripple  boy.  I  have  often  seen  her 
standing  over  her  tub,  washing  your  dehcate 
muslins  and  laces,  and  dropping  tears  into  the 
water. ' ' 

"I  will  never  send  her  anything  more — she 
shall  not  be  troubled,"  said  Mrs.  Montague, 
hastily. 

Mrs.  Morris  could  not  help  smiling.  "  I  have 
not  made  myself  clear.  It  is  not  the  washing  that 
troubles  her  ;  it  is  her  husband  who  beats  her,  and 
her  boy  who  worries  her.  If  you  and  I  take  our 
work  from  her,  she  will  have  that  much  less  money 
to  depend  upon,  and  will  suffer  in  consequence. 


48 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


i 


•  She  is  a  hard-working  and  capable  woman,  and 
makes  a  fair  hving.  I  would  not  advise  you  to 
give  her  money,  for  her  husband  would  find  it  out, 
and  take  it  from  her.  It  is  sympathy  that  she 
wants.  If  you  could  visit  her  occasionally,  and 
show  that  you  are  interested  in  her,  by  talking  or 
reading  to  her  poor  foolish  boy  or  showing  him  a 
picture-book,  you  have  no  idea  how  grateful  she 
would  be  to  you.  and  how  it  would  cheer  her  on 
her  dreary  way." 

"I  will  go  to  see  her  to-morrow,"  said  Mrs 
Montague.      "Can  you  think  of  any  one  else  I 
cpuld  visit  ?' ' 

\       "  A  great  many, "   said  Mrs.   Morris;   "but  I 
don't  think  you  had  better  undertake  too'  much  at 
once.    I  will  give  you  the  addresses  of  three  or  four 
poor  families,  where  an  occasional  visit  would  do 
untold  good.     That  is,  it  will  do  them  good  if  you 
treat  them  as  you  do  your  richer  friends.     Don't 
give  them  too  much  money,  or  too  many  presents, 
till  you  find  out  what  they  need.    Try  to  feel  inter- 
ested in  them.     Find  out  their  ways  of  Hving,  and 
what  they  are  going  to  do  with  their  children,'  and 
help  them  to  get  situations  for  them  if  you  can. 
And  be  sure  to  remember  that  poverty  does  not 
always  take  away  one's  self-respect." 

"I  will.  I  will,"  said  Mrs.  Montague,  eagerly. 
"When  can  you  give  me  these  addresses ? " 

Mrs.  Morris  smiled  again,  and,  taking  a  piece 
of  paper  and  a  pencil  from  her  work  basket, 
wrote  a  few  lines  and  handed  thftm  to  mJ 
Montague. 


MY   NEW    HOME   AND   A   SELFISH    LADY         49 

The  lady  got  up  to  take  her  leave.  "And  in 
regard  to  the  dog,,"  said  Mrs.  Morris,  following 
her  to  the  door,  "if  you  decide  to  allow  Charlie 
to  have  one,  you  had  better  let  him  come  in  and 
have  a  talk  with  my  boys  about  it.  They  seem 
to  know  all  the  dogs  that  are  for  sale  in  the 
town." 

"  Thank  you  ;  I  shall  be  most  happy  to  do  so. 
He  shall  have  his  dog.  When  can  you  have 
him?" 

"  To-morrow,  the  next  day,  any  day  at  all.  It 
makes  no  difference  to  me.  Let  him  spend  an 
afternoon  and  evening  with  the  boys,  if  you  do 
not  object." 

"It  will  give  me  much  pleasure,"  and  the 
little  lady  bowed  and  smiled,  and  after  stooping 
down  to  pat  me,  tripped  down  the  steps,  and  got 
into  her  carriage  and  drove  away. 

Mrs.   Morris  stood  looking   after   her  with   a 
beaming  face,  and  I  began  to  think  that  I  should 
like  Mrs.  Montague,  too,  if  I  knew  her  long  enough. 
Two  days  later  I  was  quite  sure  I  should,  for  I  had 
a  proof  that  she  really  liked  me.     When  her  little 
boy  Charlie  came  to  the  house,  he  brought  some- 
thing  for   me    done   up   in    white   paper.      Mrs. 
Morris    opened   it,   and   there  was  a   handsome* 
nickel-plated  collar,  with  my  name  on  it— Beauti 
Y^il  Joe.     Wasn't  I  pleased  !     They  took  off  the 
little  shabby  leather  strap  that  the  boys  had  given 
me  when  I  came,  and  fastened  on  my  new  collar 
and  then  Mrs.  Morris  held  me  up  to  a  glass  to 
look  at  myself.     I  felt  so  happy.     Up  to  this  time 


50 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


I  had  felt  a  little  ashamed  of  my  cropped  ears  and 
docked  tail,  but  now  that  I  had  a  fine  new  coUai 
I  could  hold  up  my  head  with  any  dog. 

"Dear  old  Joe,"  said  Mrs.  Morris,  pressing 
my  head  tightly  between  her  hands.  "You  did  a 
good  thing  the  other  day  in  helping  me  to  start 
that  little  woman  out  of  her  selfish  way  of  living." 

I  did  not  know  about  that,  but  I  knew  that  I 
felt  very  grateful  to  Mrs.  Montague  for  my  new 
collar,  and  ever  afterward,  when  I  met  her  in  the 
street,  I  stopped  and  looked  at  her.  Sometimes 
she  saw  me  and  stopped  her  carriage  to  speak  to 
me  ;  but  I  always  wagged  my  tail,  or  rather  my 
body,  for  I  had  no  tail  to  wag,  whenever  I  saw  her, 
whether  she  saw  me  or  not. 

Her  son  got  a  beautiful  Irish  setter,  called 
"Brisk."  He  had  a  silky  coat  and  soft  brown 
eyes,  and  his  young  master  seemed  very  fond  of 
him. 


CHAPTER  VI 


THE    FOX    TERRIER    BILLY 


HEN  I  came  to  the  Morrises.  I  knew  noth- 
ing about  the  proper  way  of  bringing  up 
a  puppy.  I  once  heard  of  a  little  boy 
whose  sister  beat  him  so  much  that  he  said  he  was 
brought  up  by  hand  ;  so  I  think  as  Jenkins  kicked 
me  so  much,  I  may  say  that  I  was  brought  up  by 

foot.  Of/ 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  in  my  new  home  I 
had  a  chance  of  seeing  how  one  should  bring  un 
a  little  puppy.  ^ 

One  day  I  was  sitting  beside  Miss  Laura  in  the 
parlor,  when  the  door  opened  and  Jack  came  in 
One  of  his  hands  was  laid  over  the  other,  and  he 
said  to  his  sister,   "  Guess  what  Tve  got  here  " 

"A  bird,"  she  said. 

"No." 

"A  rat." 
"No." 

"A  mouse." 
"No— a  pup." 

1*1-       r"'  ^       '      ^""^    '^'^^"'  reprovingly;  for  she 
Ithought  he  was  telling  a  story. 


I 


52 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


He  opened  his  hands  and  there  lay  the  tiniest 
morsel  of  a  fox  terrier  puppy  that  I  ever  saw.  He 
was  white,  with  black  and  tan  markings.  His 
body  was  pure  white,  his  tail  black,  with  a  dash 
of  tan  ;  his  ears  black,  and  his  face  evenly  marked 
with  black  and  tan.  We  could  not  tell  the  color 
of  his  eyes,  as  they  were  not  open.  Later  on,  they 
turned  out  to  be  a  pretty  brown.  His  nose  was 
pale  pink,  and  when  he  got  older,  it  became  jet 
black. 

"Why,  Jack  !"  exclaimed  Miss  Laura,  *'his 
eyes  aren't  open  ;  why  did  you  take  him  from  his 
mother.^" 

"She's  dead."  said  Jack.  "  Poisoned— left 
her  pups  to  run  about  the  yard  for  a  little  exercise. 
Some  brute  had  thrown  over  a  piece  of  poisoned 
meat,  and  she  ate  it.  Four  of  the  pups  died. 
This  is  the  only  one  left.  Mr.  Robinson  says  his 
man  doesn't  understand  raising  pups  without  their 
mothers,  and  as  he  is  going  away,  he  wants  us  to 
have  it,  for  we  always  had  such  luck  in  nursing 
sick  animals." 

Mr.  Robinson  I  knew  was  a  friend  of  the  Mor- 
rises, and  a  gentleman  who  was  fond  of  fancy 
stock,  and  imported  a  great  deal  of  it  from  Eng- 
land. If  this  puppy  came  from  him,  it  was  sure 
to  be  good  one. 

Miss  Laura  took  the  tiny  creature,  and  went 
upstairs  very  thoughtfully.  I  followed  her,  and 
watched  her  get  a  little  basket  and  line  it  with  cot- 
ton wool.  She  put  the  puppy  in  it  and  looked  at 
him.     Though  it  was  midsummer,  and  the  house 


THE   FOX    TERRIER    BILLY 


53 


It  was  sure 


seemed  very  warm  to  me,  the  little  creature  was 
shivering,  and  making  a  low  murmuring  noise. 
She  pulled  the  wool  all  over  him  and  put  the  win- 
dow down,  and  set  his  basket  in  the  sun. 

Then  she  went-  to  the  kitchen  and  got  some 
warm  milk.  She  dipped  her  finger  in  it,  and  offered 
it  to  the  puppy,  but  he  went  nosing  about  it  in  a 
stupid  way,  and  wouldn't  touch  it.  ' '  Too  young,  *  * 
Miss  Laura  said.  She  got  a  little  piece  of  muslin, 
put  some  bread  in  it,  tied  a  string  round  it,  and 
dipped  it  in  the  milk.  When  she  put  this  to  the 
puppy's  mouth,  he  sucked  it  greedily.  He  acted 
as  if  he  was  starving,  but  Miss  Laura  only  let  him 
have  a  little. 

Every  few  hours  for  the  rest  of  the  day,  she  gave 
him  some  more  milk,  and  I  heard  the  boys  say 
that  for  many  nights  she  got  up  once  or  twice  and 
heated  milk  over  a  lamp  for  him.  One  night  the 
milk  got  cold  before  he  took  it,  and  he  swelled  up 
and  became  so  ill  that  Miss  Laura  had  to  rouse 
her  mother  and  get  some  hot  water  to  plunge  him 
in.  That  made  him  well  again,  and  no  one  seemed 
to  think  it  was  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  take  for 
a  creature  that  was  nothing  but  a  dog. 

He  fully  repaid  them  for  all  his  care,  for  he 
turned  out  to  be  one  of  the  prettiest  and  most  lov- 
able dogs  that  I  ever  saw.  They  called  him  Billy, 
and  the  two  events  of  his  early  life  were  the  open- 
ing of  his  eyes  and  the  swallowing  of  his  muslin 
rag.  The  rag  did  not  seem  to  hurt  him.  ;  but  Miss 
Laura  said  that,  as  he  had  got  so  strong  and  so 
greedy,  he  must  learn  to  eat  like  other  dogs. 


54 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


IC 


ill 


W 


He  was  very  amusing  when  he  was  a  puppy 
He    was   full   of  tricks,    and  he  crept  about  in  a 
mischievous  way  when  one  did  not  know  he  was 
near.     He  was  a  very  small  puppy  and  used  to 
climb  inside  Miss  Laura's  Jersey  sleeve  up  to  her 
shoulder  when  he  was  six  weeks  old.     One  day 
when  the  whole  family  was  in  the  parlor,  Mr.  Mor* 
ns  suddenly  flung  aside  his  newspaper,  and  began 
jumping  up   and    down.     Mrs.   Morris  was  very 
much  alarmed,  and  cried  out,  "  My  dear  William 
what  is  the  matter  ? " 

"  There's  a  rat  up  my  leg,"  he  said,  shaking 
It  violently.  Just  then  little  Billy  fell  out  on  the 
floor  and  lay  on  his  back  looking  up  at  Mr.  Morris 
with  a  surprised  face.  He  had  felt  cold  and 
thought  it  would  be  warm  inside  Mr.  Morris* 
trouser's  leg. 

However,  Billy  never  did  any  real  mischief 
thanks  to  Miss  Laura's  training.  She  began  to 
punish  him  just  as  soon  as  he  began  to  tear  and 
worry  things.  The  first  thing  he  attacked  was 
Mr.  Morris'  felt  hat.  The  wind  blew  it  down  the 
hall  one  day,  and  Billy  came  along  and  began  to 
try  it  with  his  teeth.  I  dare  say  it  felt  good  to 
them,  for  a  puppy  is  very  like  a  baby  and  loves 
something  to  bite. 

Miss  Laura  found  him,  and  he  rolled  his  eyes 
at  her  quite  innocently,  not  knowing  that  he  was 
doing  wrong.  She  took  the  hat  away,  and  point- 
ing from  it  to  him,  said,  "  Bad  Billy  !  "  Then  she 
gave  him  two  or  three  slaps  with  a  bootlace.  She 
never  struck  a  little  dog  with  her  hand  or  a  stick. 


THE   FOX   TERRIER    BILLY 


55 


She  said  clubs  were  for  big  dogs  and  switches  for 
little  dogs,  if  one  had  to  use  them.  The  best  way 
was  to  scold  them,  for  a  good  dog  feels  a  severe 
scolding  as  much  as  a  whipping. 

Billy  was  very  much  ashamed  of  himself. 
Nothing  would  induce  him  even  to  look  at  a  hat 
again.  But  he  thought  it  was  no  harm  to  worry 
other  things.  He  attacked  one  thing  after  another, 
the  rugs  on  the  floor,  curtains,  anything  flying  or 
fluttering,  and  Miss  Laura  patiently  scolded  him 
for  each  one,  till  at  last  it  dawned  upon  him  that 
he  must  not  worry  anything  but  a  bone.  Then 
he  got  to  be  a  very  good  dog. 

There  was  one  thing  that  Miss  Laura  was  very 
particular  about,  and  that  was  to  have  him  fed 
regularly.  We  both  got  three  meals  a  day.  We 
were  never  allowed  to  go  into  the  dining  room, 
and  while  the  family  was  at  the  table,  we  lay  in 
the  hall  outside  and  watched  what  was  going  on. 

Dogs  take  a  great  interest  in  what  any  one  gets 
to  eat.  It  was  quite  exciting  to  see  the  Morrises 
passing  each  other  different  dishes,  and  to  smell 
the  nice,  hot  food.  Billy  often  wished  that  he 
could  get  up  on  the  table.  He  said  that  he  would 
make  things  fly.  When  he  was  growing,  he 
hardly  ever  got  enough  to  eat.  I  used  to  tell  him 
that  he  would  kill  himself  if  he  could  eat  all  he 
wanted  to. 

As  soon  as  meals  were  over,  Billy  and  I  scam- 
pered after  Miss  Laura  to  the  kitchen.  We  each 
had  our  own  plate  for  food.  Mary  the  cook  often 
laughed  at  Miss  Laura,  because  she  would    not 


56 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


>W. 


Si 


4 


I 


'  let  her  dogs  • '  dish  ' '  together.  Miss  Laura  said 
that  if  she  did,  the  larger  one  would  get  more 
than  his  share,  and  the  little  one  would  starve. 

It  was  quite  a  sight  to  see  Billy  eat.  He 
spread  his  legs  apart  to  steady  himself,  and  gob- 
bled at  his  food  like  a  duck.  When  he  finished 
he  always  looked  up  for  more,  and  Miss  Laura 
would  shake  her  head  and  say:  "No.  Billy; 
better  longing  than  loathing.  I  believe  that 
a  great  many  little  dogs  are  killed  by  over- 
feeding. *• 

I  often  heard  the  Morrises  speak  of  the  foolish 
way  in  which  some  people  stuffed  their  pets  with 
f(bod,  and  either  kill  them  by  it  or  keep  them  in 
continual   ill   health.      A   case   occurred    in   our 
neighborhood  while   Billy  was  a  puppy.     Some 
people,  called  Dobson,  who  lived  only  a  few  doors 
from  the  Morrises,  had  a  fine  bay  mare  and  a  little 
colt  called  Sam.     They  were  very  proud  of  this 
colt,  and  Mr.  Dobson  had  promised  it  to  his  son 
James.     One  day  Mr.  Dobson  asked  Mr.  Morris 
to  come  in  and  see  the  colt,  and  I  went,  too.     I 
watched  Mr.  Morris  while  he  examined  it.    It  was 
a  pretty  little  creature,  and  I  did  not  wonder  that 
they  thought  so  much  of  it. 

"When  Mr.  Morris  went  home  his  wife  asked 
him  what  he  thought  of  it. 

•'  I  think,"  he  said,  "that  it  won't  five  long." 
"Why,    papa!"    exclaimed  Jack,   who  over- 
heard the  remark,  "  it  is  as  fat  as  a  seal." 

"  It  would  have  a  better  chance  for  its  life  if 
it  were   lean    and    scrawny,"    said    Mr.    Morris. 


THE    FOX   TERRIER    BILLY 


57 


"They  are  over-feeding  it,  and  I  told  Mr.  Dobson 
so  ;  but  he  wasn't  inclined  to  believe  me." 

Now,  Mr.  Morris  had  been  brought  up  in  the 
country,  and  knew  a  great  deal  about  animals,  so  I 
was  inclined  to  think  he  was  right.  And  sure 
enough,  in  a  few  days,  we  heard  that  the  colt  was 
dead. 

Poor  James  Dobson  felt  very  badly.  A  num- 
ber of  the  neighbors'  boys  went  into  see  him,  and 
there  he  stood  gazing  at  the  dead  colt,  and  looking 
as  if  he  wanted  to  cry.  Jack  was  there  and  I  was 
at  his  heels,  and  though  he  said  nothing  for  a 
time,  I  knew  he  was  angry  with  the  Dobsons  for 
sacrificing  the  colt's  life.  Presently  he  said, 
"You  won't  need  to  have  that  colt  stuffed  now 
he's  dead,  Dobson." 

• '  What  do  you  mean  .?  Why  do  you  say  that  ? '  * 
asked  the  boy,  peevishly. 

"  Because  you  stuffed  him  while  he  was  alive," 
said  Jack,  saucily. 

Then  we  had  to  run  for  all  we  were  worth,  for 
the  Dobson  boy  was  after  us,  and  as  he  was  a  big 
fellow  he  would  have  whipped  Jack  soundly. 

I  must  not  forget  to  say  that  Billy  was  washed 
regularly— once  a  week  with  nice-smelling  soap, 
and  once  a  month  with  strong-smelling,  disagree- 
able, carbolic  soap.  He  had  his  own  towels  and 
wash  cloths,  and  after  being  rubbed  and  scrubbed, 
he  was  rolled  in  a  blanket  and  put  by  the  fire  to 
dry.  Miss  Laura  said  that  a  little  dog  that  has 
been  petted  and  kept  in  the  house,  and  has  become 
tender,  should  never  be  washed  and  allowed  to 


58 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


run  about  with  a  wet  coat,  unless  the  weather  was 
very  warm,  for  he  would  be  sure  to  take  cold. 

Jim  and  I  were  more  hardy  than  Billy,  and  we 
took  our  baths  in  the  sea.  Every  few  days  the 
boys  took  us  down  to  the  shore,  and  we  went  in 
swimming  with  them. 


e  went  in 


CHAPTER  VII 


TRAINING   A   PUPPY 


ED,  dear,"  said  Miss  Laura  one  day,  "  I 
wish  you  would  train  Billy  to  follow  and 
retrieve.     He  is  four  months  old  now, 

and  I  shall   soon  want  to  take   him  out  in  the 

street." 

"Very  well,  sister."  said  mischievous  Ned; 
and  catching  up  a  stick,  he  said,  "  Come  out  into 
the  garden,  dogs." 

Though  he  was  brandishing  his  stick  very 
fiercely,  I  was  not  at  all  afraid  of  him  ;  and  as  for 
Billy,  he  loved  Ned. 

The  Morris  garden  was  really  not  a  garden. 
but  a  large  piece  of  ground  with  the  grass  worn 
bare  in  many  places,  a  few  trees  scattered  about, 
and  some  raspberry  and  currant  bushes  along  the 
fence.  A  lady  who  knew  that  Mr.  Morris  had 
not  a  large  salary,  said  one  day  when  she  was 
looking  out  of  the  dining-room  window,  "My 
dear  Mrs.  Morris,  why  don't  you  have  this  garden 
dug  up  ?  You  could  raise  your  own  vegetables. 
It  would  be  so  much  cheaper  than  buying  them." 
Mrs.    Morris   laughed    in    great    amusement. 

59 


6o 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


^;  Think  Of  the  hens,  and  cats,  and  dogs,  and  rab- 
bits, and,  above  all,  the  boys  that  I  have.  What 
sort  of  a  garden  would  there  be.  and  do  you  think 
It  would  be  fair  to  take  their  playground  from 
them  ? ' ' 

The  lady  said,  ' '  No,  she  did  not  think  it  would 
be  fair. ' ' 

I  am  sure  I  don't  know  what  the  boys  would 
have  done  without  this  strip  of  ground.  Many  a 
frolic  and  game  they  had  there.  In  the  present 
case.  Ned  walked  around  and  around  it.  with  his 
stick  on  his  shoulder.  Billy  and  I  strolling  after 
him.     Presently  Billy  made  a  dash  aside  to  get 

abcpne.     Ned  turned  around  and  said  firmlv    "To 
heel!"  ^' 

Billy  looked  at  him  innocently,  not  knowing 
what  he  meant.  "To  heel!"  exclaimed  Ned 
again.  Billy  thought  he  wanted  to  play  and 
putting  his  head  on  his  paws,  he  began  to  'bark 
Ned  laughed;  still  he  kept  saying  "To  heel  !  "  He 
would  not  say  another  word.  He  knew  if  he  said 
"Come  here,"  or  "Follow."  or  "Go  behind  "  it 
would  confuse  Billy. 

Finally,  as  Ned  kept  saying  the  words  over 
and  over,  and  pointing  to  me,  it  seemed  to  dawn 
upon  Billy  that  he  wanted  him  to  follow  him.  So 
he  came  beside  me,  and  together  we  followed  Ned 
around  the  garden,  again  and  again. 

N-d  often  looked  behind  with  a  pleased  face 
and  I  felt  so  proud  to  think  I  was  doing  well  •  but 
suddenly  I  got  dreadfully  confused  when  he  turned 
around  and  said,  "  Hie  out  !  " 


TRAINING   A    PUPPY 


6l 


The  Morrises  all  used  the  same  words  in  train- 
ing their  dogs,  and  I  had  heard  Miss  Laura  say 
this,  but  I  had  forgotten  what  it  meant.  • '  Good 
Joe,*'  said  Ned,  turning  around  and  patting  me, 
"you  have  forgotten.  I  wonder  where  Jim  is? 
He  would  help  us." 

He  put  his  fingers  in  his  mouth  and  blew  a 
shrill  whistle,  and  soon  Jim  came  trotting  up  the 
lane  from  the  street.  He  looked  at  us  with  his 
large,  intelligent  eyes,  and  wagged  his  tail  slowly, 
as  if  to  say,  '  •  Well,  what  do  you  want  of  me  ? " 

"  Come  and  give  me  a  hand  at  this  training 
business,  old  Sobersides,"  said  Ned,  with  a  laugh. 
"  It's  too  slow  to  do  it  alone.  Now,  young  gentle- 
men, attention  !  To  heel  !"  He  began  to  march 
around  the  garden  again,  and  Jim  and  I  followed 
closely  at  his  heels,  while  little  Billy,  seeing  that 
he  could  not  get  us  to  play  with  him,  came  lagging 
behind. 

Soon  Ned  turned  around  and  said,  "  Hie  out !" 
Old  Jim  sprang  ahead,  and  ran  off  in  front  as  if 
he  was  after  something.  Now  I  remembered  what 
' '  hie  out ' '  meant.  We  were  to  have  a  lovely  race 
wherever  we  liked.  Little  Billy  loved  this.  We 
ran  and  scampered  hither  and  thither,  and  Ned 
watched  us,  laughing  at  our  antics. 

After  tea,  he  called  us  out  in  the  garden  again, 
and  said  he  had  something  else  to  teach  us.  He 
turned  up  a  tub  on  the  wooden  platform  at  the  back 
door,  and  sat  on  it,  and  then  called  Jim  to  him. 

He  took  a  small  leather  strap  from  his  pocket. 
It  had  a  nice,  strong  smell.     We  all  licked  it,  and 


62 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


I 


each  dog  wished  to  have  it.  ' '  No,  Joe  and  Billy, ' ' 
said  Ned,  holding  us  both  by  our  collars  ;  "you 
wait  a  minute.     Here,  Jim." 

Jim  watched  him  very  earnestly,  and  Ned  threw 
the  strap  half-way  across  the  garden,  and  said, 
"Fetch  it." 

Jim  never  moved  till  he  heard  the  words, 
"Fetch  it."  Then  he  ran  swiftly,  brought  the 
strap,  and  dropped  it  in  Ned's  hand.  Ned  sent 
him  after  it  two  or  three  times,  then  he  said  to  Jim, 
"  Lie  down,"  and  turned  to  me.  "  Here,  Joe  ;  it 
is  your  turn." 

He  threw  the  strap  under  the  raspberry  bushes, 
theh  looked  at  me  and  said,  "  Fetch  it."  I  knew 
quite  well  what  he  meant,  and  ran  joyfully  after  it. 
I  soon  found  it  by  the  strong  smell,  but  the  queerest 
thing  happened  when  I  got  it  in  my  mouth.  I 
began  to  gnaw  it  and  play  with  it,  and  when  Ned 
called  out,  "  Fetch  it,"  I  dropped  it  and  ran  toward 
him.     I  was  not  obstinate,  but  I  was  stupid. 

Ned  pointed  to  the  place  where  it  was,  and 
spread  out  his  empty  hands.  That  helped  me,  and 
I  ran  quickly  and  got  it.  He  made  me  get  it  for 
him  several  times.  Sometimes  I  could  not  find  it, 
and  sometimes  I  dropped  it ;  but  he  never  stirred. 
He  sat  still  till  I  brought  it  to  him. 

After  a  while  he  tried  Billy,  but  it  soon  got  dark, 
and  we  could  not  see,  so  he  took  Billy  and  went 
into  the  house. 

I  stayed  out  with  Jim  for  a  while,  and  he  asked 
me  if  I  knew  why  Ned  had  thrown  a  strap  for  us, 
instead  of  a  bone  or  something  hard. 


TRAINING   A    PUPPY 


63 


Of  course  I  did  not  know,  so  Jim  told  me  it 
was  on  his  account.  He  was  a  bird  dog.  and  was 
never  allowed  to  carry  anything  hard  in  his  mouth, 
because  it  would  make  him  hard-mouthed,  and  he 
would  be  apt  to  bite  the  birds  when  he  was  bring- 
ing  them  back  to  any  person  who  was  shooting 
with  him.  He  said  that  he  had  been  so  carefully 
trained  that  he  could  even  carry  three  eggs  at  a 
time  in  his  mouth. 

I  said  to  him,  "Jim.  how  is  it  that  you  never 
go  out  shooting  ?  I  have  always  heard  that  you 
were  a  dog  for  that,  and  yet  you  n«ver  leave 
home." 

He  hung  his  head  a  little,  and  said  he  did  not 
wish  to  go,  and  then,  for  he  was  an  honest  dog,  he 
gave  me  the  true  reason. 


CHAPTER  VIII 


A    RUINED    DOG 


I 


WAS  a  sporting  dog,"  he  said,  bitterly, 
"  for  the  first  three  years  of  my  Hfe.  I 
belonged  to  a  man  who  keeps  a  livery 
stable  here  in  Fairport,  and  he  used  to  hire  me  out 
to  shooting  parties. 

"I  was  a  favorite  with  all  the  gentlemen.  I 
was  crazy  with  delight  when  I  saw  the  guns 
brought  out,  and  would  jump  up  and  bite  at  them. 
I  loved  to  chase  birds  and  rabbits,  and  even  now 
when  the  pigeons  come  near  me,  I  tremble  all 
over  and  have  to  turn  away  lest  I  should  seize 
them.  I  used  often  to  be  in  the  woods  from  morn- 
ing till  night.  I  liked  to  have  a  hard  search  after 
a  bird  after  it  had  been  shot,  and  to  be  praised  for 
bringing  it  out  without  biting  or  injuring  it.  . 

• '  I  never  got  lost,  for  I  am  one  of  those  dogs 
that  can  always  tell  where  human  beings  are.  I 
did  not  smell  them.  I  would  be  too  far  away  for 
that,  but  if  my  master  was  standing  in  some  place 
and  I  took  a  long  round  through  the  woods,  I  knew 
exactly  where  he  was,  and  could  make  a  short  cut 

back  to  him  without  returning  in  my  tracks. 
64 


A    RUINED    DOG 


65 


•*  But  I  must  tell  you  about  my  trouble.     One 
Saturday  afternoon  a  party  of  young  men  came  to 
get  me.     They  had  a  dog  with   them,  a  cocker 
spaniel  called  Bob,  but  they  wanted  another.     For 
some  reason  or  other,  my  master  was  very  unwill- 
ing to  have  me  go.    However,  he  at  last  consented, 
and  they  put  me  in  the  back  of  the  wagon  with 
Bob  and  the  lunch  baskets,  and  we  drove  off  into 
the  country.   This  Bob  was  a  happy,  merry-looking 
dog,  and  as  we  went  along,  he  told  me  of  the  fine 
time  we  should  have  next  day.     The  young  men 
would  shoot  a  little,  then  they  would  get  out  their 
baskets  and  have  something  to  eat  and  drink,  and 
would  play  cards  and  go  to  sleep  under  the  trees, 
and  we  would  be  able  to  help  ourselves  to  legs  and 
wings  of  chickens,  and  anything  we  liked  from  the 
baskets. 

"  I  did  not  like  this  at  all.  I  was  us-d  to  work- 
ing hard  through  the  week,  and  I  liked  to  spend 
my  Sundays  quietly  at  home.  However,  I  said 
nothing. 

"That  night  we  slept  at  a  country  hotel,  and 
drove  the  next  morning  to  the  banks  of  a  small 
lake  where  the  young  men  were  told  there  would 
be  plenty  of  wild  ducks.     They  were  in  no  hurry 
to  begin  their  sport.     They  sat  down  in  the  sun 
on  some  flat  rocks  at  the  water's  edge,  and  said 
they  would  have  something  to  drink  before  setting 
to  work.     They  got  out  some  of  the  bottles  from 
the  wagon,  and  began  to  take  long  drinks  from 
them.     Then  they  got  quarrelsome  and  mischiev- 
ous, and  seemed  to  forget  all  about  their  shooting. 


66 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


[) 


' 


One  of  them  p»-oposed  to  have  some  fun  with  the 
dogs.  They  tied  us  both  to  a  tree,  and  throwing 
a  sdck  in  the  water,  told  us  to  get  it.  Of  course 
we  struggled  and  tried  to  get  free,  and  chafed  our 
necks  with  the  rope. 

' '  After  a  dme  one  of  ihem  began  to  swear  at 
me,  and  say  that  he  believed  I  was  gun-shy.  He 
staggered  to  the  wagon  and  got  out  his  fowling 
piece,  and  said  he  was  going  to  try  me. 

' '  He  loaded  it,  went  to  a  little  distance,  and  was 
going  to  fire,  when  the  young  man  who  owned  Bob 
said  he  wasn't  going  to  have  his  dog's  legs  shot 
off,  and  coming  up  he  unfastened  him  and  took 
him  away.  You  can  imagine  my  feelings,  as  I 
stood  there  tied  to  the  tree,  with  that  stranger  point- 
ing his  gun  directly  at  me.  He  fired  close  to  me 
a  number  of  dmes — over  my  head  and  under  my 
body.  The  earth  was  cut  up  all  around  me.  I 
was  terribly  frightened,  and  howled  and  begged 
to  be  freed. 

"The  other  young  men,  who  were  sitting  laugh- 
ing at  me,  thought  it  such  good  fun  that  they  got 
their  guns,  too.  I  never  wish  to  spend  such  a  ter- 
rible hour  again.  I  was  sure  they  would  kill  me. 
I  dare  say  they  would  have  done  so,  for  they  were 
all  quite  drunk  by  this  time,  if  something  had  not 
happened. 

•'  Poor  Bob,  who  was  almost  as  frightened  as  I 
was,  and  who  lay  shivering  under  the  wagon,  was 
killed  by  a  shot  by  his  own  master,  whose  hand 
was  the  most  unsteady  of  all.  He  gave  one  loud 
howl,  kicked  convulsively,   then   turned  over  on 


A   RUINED    DOG 


67 


his  side  and  lay  quite  still.  It  sobered  them  all. 
They  ran  up  to  him.  but  he  was  quite  dead.  They 
sat  for  a  while  quite  silent,  then  they  threw  the 
rest  of  the  bottles  into  the  lake,  dug  a  shallow 
grave  for  Bob.  and  putting  me  in  the  wagon  drove 
slowly  back  to  town.  They  were  not  bad  young 
men.  I  don't  think  they  meant  to  hurt  me,  or  to 
kill  Bob.  It  was  the  nasty  stuff  in  the  bottles  that 
took  away  their  reason. 

'  •  I  was  never  the  same  dog  again.  I  was  quite 
deaf  in  my  right  ear,  and  though  I  strove  against 
It,  I  was  so  terribly  afraid  of  even  the  sight  of  a 
gun  that  I  would  run  and  hide  myself  whenever 
one  was  shown  to  me.  My  master  was  very  angrv 
with  those  young  men,  and  it  seemed  as  if  he 
could  not  bear  the  sight  of  me.  One  day  he  took 
me  very  kindly  and  brought  me  here,  and  asked 
Mr.  Morris  if  he  did  not  want  a  good-natured  dog 
to  play  with  the  children. 

"I  have  a  happy  home  here  and  I  love  the 
Morris  boys  ;  but  I  often  wish  that  I  could  keep 
from  putting  my  tail  between  my  legs  and  runnin- 
home  every  time  I  hear  the  sound  of  a  gun. ' ' 

•'Never  mind  that.  Jim."  I  said.     "You  should 
not  fret  over  a  thing  for  which    you  are    not  to 
blame.      I    am  sure   you   must   be  glad  for   one 
reason  that  you  have  left  your  old  life." 
"  What  is  that  .?• '  he  said. 
"On  account   of  the  birds.     You  know    Miss 
Laura  thinks  it  is  wrong  tokillthe  pretty  creatures 
that  tly  about  the  woods." 

"So  it  is,"  he  said,  unless  one  kills  them  at 


68 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


I  I 


once.     I  have  often  felt  angry  with  men  for  only 
half  kiUing  a  bird.     I  hated  to  pick  up  the  little, 
warm  body,  and  see  the  bright  eye  looking  so  re- 
proachfully at  me,  and  feel  the  flutter  of  life.     We 
animals,  or  rather  the  most  of  us,  kill  mercifully. 
It  is  only  human  beings  who  butcher  their  prey, 
and  seem,  some  of  them,  to  rejoice  in  their  agony. 
I  used  to  be  eager  to  kill  birds  and  rabbits,  but  I 
did  not  want  to  keep  them  before  me  long  after 
they  were  dead.     I  often  stop  in  the  street  and 
look  up  at  fine  ladies'  bonnets,  and  wonder  how 
they  can  wear  little  dead  birds  in  such  dreadful 
positions.     Some  of  them  have  their  heads  twisted 
under  their  wings  and  over  their  shoulders,  and 
looking  toward  their  tails,  and  their  eyes  are  so 
horrible  that  I  wish  I  could  take  those  ladies  into 
the  woods  and  let  them  see  how  easy  and  pretty  a 
live  bird  is,  and  how  unlike  the  stuffed  creatures 
they  wear.     Have  you  ever  had  a  good  run  in  the 
woods,  Joe  ? ' ' 

' '  No,  never, ' '  I  said. 

"  Some  day  I  will  take  you,  and  now  it  is  late 
and  I  must  go  to  bed.  Are  you  going  to  sleep  in 
the  kennel  with  me,  or  in  the  stable  ?  " 

"I  think  I  will  sleep  with  you,  Jim.  Dogs 
like  company,  you  know,  as  well  as  human 
beings."  I  curled  up  in  the  straw  beside  him, 
and  soon  we  were  fast  asleep. 

I  have  known  a  good  many  dogs,  but  I  don't 
think  I  ever  saw  such  a  good  one  as  Jim.  He 
A«^  5v-ntiv  a.nci  ivinu,  aiiu  no  sensitive  that  a  hard 
word  hurt  him  more  than  a  blow.     He  was  a  great 


A    RUINED    DOG 


69 


pet  with  Mrs.  Morris,  and  as  he  had  been  so  well 
trained,  he  was  able  to  make  himself  very  useful 
to  her. 

When  she  went  shopping,  he  often  carried  a 
parcel  in  his  mouth  for  her.  He  would  never 
drop  ,t  nor  leave  it  anywhere.  One  day.  she  drop- 
ped her  purse  without  knowing  it,  and  Jim  picked 
It  up,  and  brought  it  home  in  his  mouth.  She  did 
not  notice  him,  for  he  always  walked  behind  her 
When  she  got  to  her  own  door,  she  missed  the 
purse,  and  turning  around  saw  it  in  Jim's  mouth 

Another  day,  a  lady  gave  Jack  Morris  a  canary 
cage  as  a  present  for  Carl.     He  was  bringing  it 
home,  when  one  of  the  little  seed  boxes  fell  out 
Jim  picked  it  up  and  carried  it  a  long  way,  before 
jack  discovered  it. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE    PARROT   BELLA 

OFTEN  used  to  hear  the  Morrises  speak 
about  vessels  that  ran  between  Fair- 
port  and  a  place  called  the  West 
Indies,  carrying  cargoes  of  lumber  and  fish,  and 
bringing  home  molasses,  spices,  fruit,  and  other 
things.  On  one  of  these  vessels,  called  the 
"Mary  Jane,"  was  a  cabin  boy,  who  was  a 
friend  of  the  Morris  boys,  and  often  brought 
them   presents. 

One  day,  after  I  had  been  with  the  Morrises' 
for  some  months,  this  boy  arrived  at  the  house 
with  a  bunch  of  green  bananas  in  one  hand,  and 
a  parrot  in  the  other.  The  boys  were  delighted 
with  the  parrot,  and  called  their  mother  to  see 
what  a  pretty  bird  she  was. 

Mrs.  Morris  seemed  very  much  touched  by 
the  boy's  thoughtfulness  in  bringing  a  present 
such  a  long  distance  to  her  boys,  and  thanked 
him  warmly.  The  cabin  boy  became  very  shy, 
and  all  he  could  say  was,  ' '  Go  way  ! ' '  over  and 
over  again,  in  a  very  awkward  manner. 

Mrs.  Morris  smiled,  and  left  him  with  the  boys. 
70 


THE    PARROT    BELLA 


71 


ises  speak 
'een  Fair- 
the  West 
L  fish,  and 
and  other 
ailed  the 
10  was  a 
1   brought 

Morrises' 
the  house 
land,  and 
delighted 
ler  to  see 

jched  by 
I  present 
thanked 
i^ery  shy, 
over  and 

the  boys. 


I  think  that  she  thought  he  would  be  more  com- 
fortable with  them. 

Jack  put  me  up  on  the  table  to  look  at  the  par- 
rot. The  boy  held  her  by  a  string  tied  around 
one  of  her  legs.  She  was  a  gray  parrot  with  a  few 
red  feathers  in  her  tail,  and  she  had  bright  eyes, 
and  a  very  knowing  air. 

"The  boy  said  he  had  been  careful  to  buy  a 
young  one  that  could  not  speak,  for  he  knew  the 
Morris  boys  would  not  want  one  chattering  foreign 
gibberish,  nor  yet  one  that  would  swear.  He  had 
kept  her  in  his  bunk  in  the  ship,  and  had  spent  all 
his  leisure  time  in  teaching  her  to  talk.  Then 
he  looked  at  her  anxiously,  and  said,  "  Show  off 
now,  can't  ye?" 

I  didn't  know  what  he  meant  by  all  this,  until 
afterward.     I  had  never  heard  of  such   a  thing 
as  birds  talking.       I   stood  on  the  table  staring 
hard  at  her,  and  she  stared  hard  at  me.     I  was 
just  thinking  that   I  would  not  like  to  have  her 
sharp  little   beak   fastened   in  my  skin,   when  I 
heard  some  one  say,  ' '  Beautiful  Joe. ' '     The  voice 
seemed  to  come  from  the  room,  but  I  knew  all  the 
voices  there,  and  this  was  one  I  had  never  heard 
before,  so  I  thought  I  must  be  mistaken,   and  it 
was  some  one   in   the   hall.     I    struggled  to  get 
away  from  Jack  to  run  and  see  who  it  was.     But 
he  held  me  fast,  and  laughed  with  all  his  might. 
I  looked  at  the  other  boys  and  they  were  laughing, 
too.     Presently,   I   heard   again,  "Beautiful  Joe, 
Beautiful  Joe."     The  sound  was  close  by,  and  yet 
it    did    not   come   from   the    cabin   boy,    for    he 


72 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


as 


was  all  doubled  up  laughing,  his  face  as  red 
a  beet. 

"  It' s  the  parrot,  Joe  !  "  cried  Ned.  ' '  Look  at 
her,  you  gaby."  I  did  look  at  her,  and  with  her 
head  on  one  side,  and  the  sauciest  air  in  the 
world,  she  was  saying  :  "  Beau-ti-ful  Joe,  Beau-ti- 
/ul  Joe  ! '  • 

I  had  never  heard  a  bird  talk  before,  and  I 
felt  so  sheepish  that  I  tried  to  get  down  and  hide 
myself  under  the  table.  Then  she  began  to  laugh 
at  me.  "Ha,  ha,  ha,  good  dog—sic  'em,  boy. 
Rats,  rats!  Beau-ti-ful  Joe,  Beau-ti-ful  Joe,"  she 
cried,  rattling  off  the  words  as  fast  as  she  could. 

I  never  felt  so  queer  before  in  my  hfe,  and  the 
boys  were  just  roaring  with  delight  at  my  puzzled 
face.  Then  the  parrot  began  calling  for  Jim  : 
"  Where's  Jim,  where' s  good  old  Jim  ?  Poor  old 
dog.     Give  him  a  bone." 

The  boys  brought  Jim  in  the  parlor,  and  when  he 
heard  her  funny,  little,  cracked  voice  calling  him. 
he   nearly  went  crazy:    "Jimmy,  Jimmy,  James 
Augustus  !  "  she  said,  which  was  Jim's  long  name. 
He  made  a  dash  out  of  the  room,  and  the  boys 
screamed  so  that  Mr.  Morris  came  down  from  his 
study  to  see  what  the  noise  meant.     As  soon  as 
the  parrot  saw  him,  she  would  not  utter  another 
word.     The  boys  told  him  though  what  she  had 
been  saying,   and  he  seemed  much  amused   to 
think  that  the  cabin  boy  should  have  remembered 
so  many  sayings  his  boys  made  use  of,  and  taught 
them   to  the  parrot.      "Clever  Polly,"   he  said 
kindly;   "good  Polly." 


I 


THE   PARROT    BELLA 


73 


as  red  as 

' '  Look  at 
I  with  her 
ir  in  the 
,  Beau-ti- 
re, and  I 
and  hide 
I  to  laugh 
em,  boy. 
oe,"  she 
could. 
,  and  the 
T  puzzled 
for  Jim  : 
Poor  old 

when  he 
ing  him, 
U  James 
%  name, 
the  boys 
from  his 
soon  as 
another 
she  had 
used  to 
smbered 
i  taught 
le  said. 


I 


The  cabin  boy  looked  at  him  shyly,  and  Jack, 
who  was  a  very  sharp  boy,  said  quickly,  "Is  not 
that  what  you  call  her,  Henry  ?" 

"No,"  said  the  boy  ;  "I  call  her  Bell,  short 
for  Bellzebub." 

"  I  beg  your  pardon,"  said  Jack,  very  politely. 
"Bell— short  for  Bellzebub,"  repeated  the 
boy.  "Ye  see,  I  thought  ye'd  like  a  name  from 
the  Bible,  bein'  a  minister's  sons.  I  hadn't  my 
Bible  with  me  on  this  cruise,  savin'  yer  presence, 
an'  I  couldn't  think  of  any  girls'  names  out  of  it, 
but  Eve  or  Queen  of  Sheba,  an'  they  didn't  seem 
very  fit,  so  I  asked  one  of  me  mates,  an'  he  says, 
for  his  part  he  guessed  Bellzebub  was  as  pretty  a 
girl's  name  as  any,  so  I  guv  her  that.  'Twould 
'a  been  better  to  let  you  name  her,  but  ye  see 
'twouldn't  'a  been  handy  not  to  call  her  somethin', 
where  I  was  teachin'  her  every  day." 

Jack  turned  away  and  walked  to  the  window, 
his  face  a  deep  scarlet.  I  heard  him  mutter, 
"Beelzebub,  prince  of  devils,"  so  I  suppose  the 
cabin  boy  had  given  his  bird  a  bad  name. 

Mr.    Morris  looked  kindly  at  the  cabin  boy. 
' '  Do  you  ever  call  the  parrot  by  her  whole  name  ? '  * 
"No,   sir,"   he  replied;    "I  always  give  her 
Bell,  but  she  calls  herself  Bella." 

"Bella,"  repeated  Mr.  Morris;  "that  is  a  very 
pretty  name.  If  you  keep  her,  boys,  I  think  you 
had  better  stick  to  that. ' ' 

"Yes,  father,"  they  all  said;  and  then  Mr. 
Morris  started  to  go  back  to  his  study.  On  the 
doorsill    he  paused    to  ask    the  cabin  boy  when 


m 


74 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


his  ship  sailed.  Finding  that  it  was  to  be  in  a  few 
days,  he  took  out  his  pocket-book  and  wrote  some- 
thing in  it.  The  next  day  he  asked  Jack  to  go  to 
town  with  him,  and  when  they  came  home,  Jack 
said  that  his  father  had  bought  an  oil-skin  coat  for 
Henry  Smith,  and  a  handsome  Bible,  in  which 
they  were  all  to  write  their  names. 

After  Mr.  Morris  left  the  room,  the  door  opened 
and  Miss  Laura  came  in.  She  knew  nothing  about 
the  parrot  and  was  very  much  surprised  to  see  it. 
Seating  herself  at  the  table,  she  held  out  her  hands 
to  it.  She  was  so  fond  of  pets  of  all  kinds,  that 
she  never  thought  of  being  afraid  of  them.  At 
the  same  time,  she  never  laid  her  hand  suddenly 
on  any  animal.  She  held  out  her  jfingers  and 
talked  gently,  so  that  if  it  wished  to  come  to  her 
it  could.  She  looked  at  the  parrot  as  if  she  loved 
it,  and  the  queer  little  thing  walked  right  up  and 
nestled  its  head  against  the  lace  in  the  front  of  her 
dress.  "Pretty  lady,"  she  said,  in  a  cracked 
whisper,  "give  Bella  a  kiss." 

The  boys  were  so  pleased  with  this  and  set  up 
such  a  shout,  that  their  mother  came  into  the  room 
and  said  they  had  better  take  the  parrot  out  to  the 
stable.  Bella  seem  to  enjoy  the  fun.  • '  Come  on, 
boys,"  she  screamed,  as  Henry  Smith  Hfted  her 
on  his  finger.  "  Ha,  ha,  ha— come  on,  let's  have 
some  fun.  Where's  the  guinea  pig?  Where's 
Davy,  the  rat?  Where's  pussy?  Pussy,  pussy, 
come  here.     Pussy,  pussy,  dear,  pretty  puss." 

Her  voice  was   shrill   and  distinct,  and  very 
like  the  voice  of  an  old  woman  who  came  to  the 


THE   PARROT    BELLA 


75 


in  a  few 
)te  some- 
to  go  to 
■ne,  Jack 
I  coat  for 
n  which 

r  opened 
ng  about 
o  see  it. 
er  hands 
ids,  that 
2m.  At 
uddenly 
ers  and 
e  to  her 
le  loved 
up  and 
It  of  her 
cracked 

i  set  up 
lie  room 
It  to  the 
)me  on, 
"ted  her 
t's  have 
Vhere'  s 
pussy, 
ss." 
id  very 
5  to  the 


house  for  rags  and  bones.  I  followed  her  out  to 
the  stable,  and  stayed  there  until  she  noticed  me 
and  screamed  out,  "Ha,  Joe,  Beautiful  Joe! 
Where's  your  tail  ?     Who  cut  your  ears  off?" 

I  don't  think  it  was  kind  in  the  cabin  boy  to 
teach  her  this,  and  I  think  she  knew  it  teased  me, 
for  she  said  it  over  and  over  again,  and  laughed 
and  chuckled  with  delight.  I  left  her  and  did  not 
see  her  till  the  next  day,  when  the  boys  had  got 
a  fine,  large  cage  for  her. 

The  place  for  her  cage  was  by  one  of  the  hall 
windows  ;  but  everybody  in  the  house  got  so  fond 
of  her  that  she  was  moved  about  from  one  room 
to  another. 

She  hated  her  cage,  and  used  to  put  her  head 
close  to  the  bars  and  plead,  ' '  Let  Bella  out ;  Bella 
will  be  a  good  girl.     Bella  won't  run  away." 

After  a  time  the  Morrises  did  let  her  out,  and 

she  kept  her  word  and  never  tried  to  get  away. 

Jack    put   a   little  handle  on   her  cage    door    so 

that   she    could    open    and    shut   it   herself,    and 

it    was    very  amusing     to    hear  her  say  in    the 

morning,    "Clear   the    track,    children!    Bella's 

going   to   take    a   walk,"    and    see  her  turn  the 

handle  with  her  claw  and  come  out  into  the  room. 

She  was  a  very  clever  bird,  and  I  have  never  seen 

any  creature  but  a  human  being  that  could  reason 

as  she  did.     She  was  so  petted  and  talked  to  that 

she  got  to  know  a  great  many  words,  and  on  one 

occasion    she     saved    the     Morrises    from    hpino- 

^ 

robbed. 

It  was  in  the  winter  time.     The  family  was 


76 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


:  a 


having  tea  in  the  dining  room  at  the  back  of  the 
house,  and  Billy  and  I  were  lying  in  the  hall  watch- 
ing  what  was  going  on.  I'here  was  no  one  in  the 
front  of  the  house.  The  hall  ',  -  .  was  lighted, 
and  the  hall  door  closed,  ^u:  not  Jocked.  Some 
sneak  thieves,  who  had  been  doing  a  great  deal  of 
mischief  in  Fairport.  crept  up  the  steps  and  into 
the  house,  and.  opening  the  door  of  the  hall  closet 
laid  their  hands  on  the  boys'  winter  overcoats. 

They  thought  no  one  saw  them,  but  they  were 
mistaken.     Bella  had  been  having  a  nap  upstairs, 
and  had  not  come  down  when  the  tea  bell  rang 
Now  she  was  hopping  down  on  her  way  to  the 
dining  room,  and  hearing  the  slight  noise  below 
'.topped  and  looked  through  the  railing.     Any  pet 
creature  that  lives  in  a  nice  family  hates  a  dirty 
shabby  person.     Bella  knew  that   those  beggar 
boys  had  no  business  in  that  closet. 

"Bad  boys!"  she  screamed,  angrily.      "Get 
out-get   out!      Here,    Joe.    Joe.    Beautiful   Joe. 
Come  quick.     Billy.  Billy.  rats-Hie  out.  Jim.  sic 
em  boys.    Where's  the  police.    Call  the  police  !" 
Billy  and   I   sprang  up  and  pushed  open  the 
door  leading  to  the  front  hall.     The  thieves  in  a 
terrible  fright  were  just  rushing   down  the  front 
steps.     One  of  them  got  away,  but  the  other  fell 
and  I  caught  him  by  the  coat,  till  Mr.  Morris  ran 
and  put  his  hand  on  his  shoulder. 

He  was  a  young  fellow  about  Jack's  age,  but 
not  one-half  so  manly,  and  he  was  sniffling  and 

scoldiricp  abnnf-  "  ♦•v.^f  »^^„i ^  ,  n      ,_      __ 

-1-^  _i,ouc      ..xdt  pcsi^y  purroc.         Mr.  Morris 

made  him  come  back  into  the  house,  and  had  a 


THE    PARROT    BELLA 


77 


k  of  the 
1  watch- 
le  in  the 
Hghted, 
Some 
deal  of 
ind  into 

I  closet, 
•ats. 

ey  were 
pstairs, 

II  rang. 

to  the 

below, 

^ny  pet 

dirty, 


beg- 


gar 


I  ( 


Get 
1  Joe. 
im,  sic 
lice!" 
:n  the 
:s  in  a 
front 
:r  fell, 
is  ran 


talk  with  him.  He  found  out  that  he  was  a  poor, 
ignorant  lad,  half  starved  by  a  drunken  father! 
He  and  his  brother  stole  clothes,  and  sent  them  to 
his  sister,  in  Boston,  who  sold  them  and  returned 
part  of  the  money. 

Mr.  Morris  asked  him  if  he  would  not  like  to 
get  his  living  in  an  honest  way,  and  he  said 
he  had  tried  to,  but  no  one  would  employ  him. 
Mr.  Morris  told  him  to  go  home  and  take  leave 
of  his  father  and  get  his  brother  and  bring 
him  to  Washington  street  the  next  day.  He  told 
him  plainly  that  if  he  did  not  he  would  send  a 
policeman  after  him. 

The  boy  begged  Mr.  Morris  not  to  do  that,  and 
early  the  next  morning  he  appeared  with  his 
brother.  Mrs.  Morris  gave  them  a  good  breakfast 
and  fitted  them  out  with  clothes,  and  they  were 
sent  off  in  the  train  to  one  of  her  brothers,  who 
was  a  kind  farii  er  in  the  country,  and  who  had 
been  telegraphed  to  that  these  boys  were  coming, 
and  wished  to  be  provided  with  situations  where 
they  would  have  a  chance  to  make  honest  men  of 
themselves. 


2,  but 
I  and 
iorris 
lad  a 


CHAPTER  X 


billy's  training  continued 

HEN  Billy  was  five  months  old,  he  had 
his  first  walk  in  the  street.  Miss  Laura 
knew  that  he  had  been  well  trained,  so 
she  did  not  hesitate  to  take  him  into  the  town 
She  was  not  the  kind  of  a  young  lady  to  go  into 
the  street  with  a  dog  that  would  not  behave  him- 
self, and  she  was  never  willing  to  attract  atten- 
tion to  herself  by  calling  out  orders  to  any  of  her 
pets. 

As  soon  as  we  got  down  the  front  steps,  she 
said,  quietly  to  Billy,  "To  heel."  It  was  very 
hard  for  little,  playful  Billy  to  keep  close  to  her. 
when  he  saw  so  many  new  and  wonderful  things 
about  him.  He  had  gotten  acquainted  with 
everything  in  the  house  and  garden,  but  this 
outside  world  was  full  of  things  he  wanted  to  look 
at  and  smell  of,  and  he  was  fairly  crazy  to  play 
with  some  of  the  pretty  dogs  he  saw  running  about. 
But  he  did  just  as  he  was  told. 
^      Soon  we  came  to  a  shop,  and  Miss  Laura  went 

in  to  buv  snmp  rihKr«nc^        ct,^    --..-j  .  ^ 

^  ....,.,.^11^.      ^jH^  baiu  CO  me,  "Stay 

out,^'J  but  Billy  she  took  in  with  her.     I  watched 


billy's  training  continued 


79 


he  had 
3  Laura 
ned,  so 
e  town. 
50  into 
e  him- 
atten- 
of  her 

DS,  she 
s  very 
o  her, 
things 
i  with 
It   this 

0  look 
3  play- 
about. 

1  went 

' '  Stay 
Itched 


them  through  the  glass  door,  and  saw  her  go  to  a 
counter  and  sit  down.  Billy  stood  behind  her  till 
she  said,  "  Lie  down."  Then  he  curled  himself 
at  her  feet. 

He  lay  quietly,  even  when  she  left  him  and 
went  to  another  counter.  But  he  eyed  her  very 
anxiously  till  she  came  back  and  said,  "Up,"  to 
him.  Then  he  sprang  up  and  followed  her  out  to 
the  street. 

She  stood  in  the  shop  door,  and  looked  lov- 
ingly down  on  us  as  we  fawned  on  her.  "  oood 
dogs,"  she  said,  softly;  "you  shall  have  a  pres- 
ent." We  went  behind  her  again,  and  she  took 
us  to  a  shop  where  we  both  lay  beside  the  counter. 
When  we  heard  her  ask  the  clerk  for  solid  rubber 
balls,  we  could  scarcely  keep  still.  We  both 
knew  what  "  ball  "  meant. 

Taking  the  parcel  in  her  hand,  she  came  out 
into  the  street.  She  did  not  do  any  more  shop- 
ping, but  turned  her  face  toward  the  sea.  She 
was  going  to  give  us  a  nice  walk  along  the  beach, 
although  it  was  a  dark,  disagreeable,  cloudy  day, 
when  most  young  ladies  would  have  stayed  in  the 
house.  The  Morris  children  never  minded  the 
weather.  Even  in  the  pouring  rain,  the  boys 
would  put  on  rubber  boots  and  coats  and  go  out  to 
play.  Miss  Laura  walked  along,  the  high  wind 
blowing  her  cloak  and  dress  about,  and  when  we 
got  past  the  houses,  she  had  a  little  run  with  us. 

We  jumped,  and  frisked,  and   barked,  till  we 
were  tired  ;  and  then  we  walked  quietly  along. 

A  Httle  distance  ahead  of  us  were  some  boys 


8o 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


throwing  sticks  in  the  water  for  two  Newfoundland 
dogs.  Suddenly  a  quarrel  sprang  up  between  the 
dogs.  They  were  both  powerful  creatures,  and 
fairly  matched  as  regarded  size.  It  was  terrible 
to  hear  their  fierce  growling,  and  to  see  the  way 
in  which  they  tore  at  each  other's  throats.  I 
looked  at  Miss  Laura.  If  she  had  said  a  word,  I 
would  have  run  in  and  helped  the  dog  that  was 
getting  the  worst  of  it.  But  she  told  me  to  keep 
back,  and  ran  on  herself. 

The  boys  were  throwing  water  on  the  dogs, 
and  j)ulling  their  tails,  and  hurling  stones  at  them, 
but?  they  could  not  separate  them.  Their  heads 
seemed  locked  together,  and  they  went  back  and 
forth  over  the  stones,  the  boys  crowding  around 
them,  shouting,  and  beating,  and  kicking  at 
them. 

"Stand  back,  boys,"  said  Miss  Laura  ;  "I'll 
stop  them. ' '  She  pulled  a  little  parcel  from  her 
purse,  bent  over  the  dogs,  scattered  a  powder  on 
their  noses,  and  the  next  instant  the  dogs  were 
yards  apart,  nearly  sneezing  their  heads  off. 

"I  say.  Missis,  what  did  you  do?  What's 
that  stuff?  Whew,  it's  pepper!"  the  boys 
exclaimed. 

Miss  Laura  sat  down  on  a  flat  rock,  and  looked 
at  them  with  a  very  pale  %ce.  "Oh,  boys,"  she 
said,  "  why  did  you  make  those  dogs  fight  ?  It  is 
so  cruel.  They  were  playing  happily  till  you  set 
them  on  each  other.  Just  see  how  they  have  torn 
their  handsome  coats,  ard  how  the  blood  is  drip- 
ping from  them." 


billy's  training  continued 


8i 


Lindland 
i^een  the 
es,  and 
terrible 
he  way 
oats.  I 
word,  I 
bat  was 
to  keep 

5  dogs, 
Lt  them, 
:  heads 
ck  and 
around 
dng   at 

;  "I'll 
)m  her 
/der  on 
js  were 
f. 

What's 
;    boys 

looked 
5,"  she 
?  It  is 
you  set 
ve  torn 
is  drip- 


"  'Taint  my  fault,"  said  one  of  the  lads,  sul- 
lenly. •  •  Jim  Jones  there  said  his  dog  could  lick  my 
dog,  and  I  said  he  couldn't— and  he  couldn't, 
nuther." 

"  Yes,  he  could,"  cried  the  other  boy  ;  "and 
if  you  say  he  couldn't,  I'll  smash  your  head." 

The  two  boys  began  sidling  up  to  each  other  with 
clenched  fists,  and  a  third  boy,  who  had  a  mis- 
chievous face,  seized  the  paper  that  had  had  the 
pepper  in  it,  and  running  up  to  them  shook  it 
in  their  faces. 

There  was  enough  left  to  put  all  thoughts  of 
fighting  out  of  their  heads.  They  began  to  cough, 
and  choke,  and  splutter,  and  finally  found  them- 
selves beside  the  dogs,  where  the  four  of  them  had 
a  lively  time. 

The  other  boys  yelled  with  delight,  and  pointed 
their  fingers  at  them.  "A  sneezing  concert. 
Thank  you,  gentlemen.     Angcore,  angcore  !'' 

Miss  Laura  laughed  too,  she  could  not 
help  it,  and  even  Billy  and  I  curled  up  our 
lips.  After  a  while  they  sobered  down,  and 
then  finding  that  the  boys  hadn't  a  handker- 
chief between  them,  Miss  Laura  took  her  own 
soft  one,  and  dipping  it  in  a  spring  of  fresh 
water  near  by,  wiped  the  red  eyes  of  the 
sneezers. 

Their  ill  humor  had  gone,  and  when  she  turned 
to  leave  them,  and  said,  coaxingly,  "You  won't 
make  those  dogs  fight  any  more,  will  you  ? ' '  they 
said,  "  No,  sirree,  Bob." 

Miss  Laura  went  slowly  home,  and  ever  after- 


82 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


ward  when  she  met  any  of  those  boys,  they  called 
her  "Miss  Pepper." 

When  we  got  home  we  found  Willie  curled  up 
by  the  window  in  the  hall,  reading  a  book.  He 
was  too  fond  of  reading,  and  his  mother  often  told 
him  to  put  away  his  book  and  run  about  with  the 
other  boys.  This  afternoon  Miss  Laura  laid  her 
hand  on  his  shoulder  and  said,  "  I  was  going  to 
give  the  dogs  a  little  game  of  ball,  but  I'm  rather 
dred." 

"  Gammon  and  spinach,"  he  replied,  shaking 
off  her  hand,  "  you're  always  tired." 

She  sat  down  in  a  hall  chair  and  looked  at  him. 
Then  she  began  to  tell  him  about  the  dog  fight. 
He  was  much  interested,  and  the  book  shpped  to 
the  floor.  When  the  finished  he  said,  "You're  a 
daisy  every  day.  Go  now  and  rest  yourself." 
Then  snatching  the  balls  from  her,  he  called  us 
and  ran  down  to  the  basement.  But  he  was  not 
quick  enough  though  to  escape  her  arm.  She 
caught  him  to  her  and  kissed  him  repeatedly.  He 
was  the  baby  and  pet  of  the  family,  and  he  loved 
her  dearly,  though  he  spoke  impatiently  to  her 
oftener  than  either  of  the  other  boys. 

We  had  a  grand  game  with  Willie.  Miss  Laura 
had  trained  us  to  do  all  kinds  of  things  with  balls 
—jumping  for  them,  playing  hide-and-seek,  and 
catching  them. 

Billy  could  do  more  things  than  I  could.  One 
thing  he  did  which  I  thought  was  very  clever. 
He  plaved  ball  bv  hirrmelf  Hf  wac  en  cq'^^'^  qKrMif 
ball  play  that  he   could  never  get  enough  of  it. 


viv 


jy  called 

urled  up 
)k.  He 
ften  told 
vith  the 
laid  her 
joing  to 
n  rather 

shaking 

at  him. 
g  fight, 
pped  to 
'ou're  a 
irself." 
illed  us 
was  not 
I.  She 
y.  He 
e  loved 

to  her 

3  Laura 
:h  balls 
k,   and 

One 
clever. 


r    cirL/OLli. 


1  of  it. 


BILLY'S  TRAINING  CONTINUED  83 

had  to  he  p  her  mother  with  the  sewing  and  the 
housework,  and  do  lessons  with  her  father,  for  she 
was  only  seventeen  years  old,  and  had  not  left  off 
studying.     So  Billy  would  take  his  ball  and  go 
off  by  hrmself.     Sometimes  he  rolled  it  over  the 
floor,  and  sometimes  he  threw  it  in  the  air  and 
pushed  ,t  through  the  staircase  railings  to  the  hall 
below.     He  .  .vays  listened  till  he  heard  it  drop 
hen  he  ran  down  and  brought  it  back  and  pushed 
.t  through  agam.     He   did  this  till  he  was  tired, 

Laur?: 'fe.  '"""'''  '"  '-'  ^"-^  '^-"^  ^'  -  ^■- 
We  both  had  been  taught  a  number  of  tricks 
We  could  sneeze  and  cough,  and  be  dead  dogs' 

molT  T.r'"''  '"''  ^'""^  °"  °"^  l>--ds.  and 
mount  a  ladder  and   say  the  alphabet,-this  was 

tie  t^.       :    '"■  '"'  '' '°°''  '^''-  Laura  a  long 
Z  I  I  "'■     ^'  "'""'  '^^San  till  a  book  was 

a.d  before  us.     Then  we  stared  at  it,  and  Miss 
Laura  said,  ••  Begin,  Joe  and  Billy-say  A  " 

For  A   we  gave  a  little  squeal.     B  was  louder. 
C  was  louder  st,ll.     We  barked  for  some  letters 
and  growled  for  others.      We   always   turned   a 
summersault  for  S.     When  we  got  to  Z,  we  gave 
loom  '  ''"'  ""'  '"'  "  ^'""^  -rouJtl., 

When  any  one  came  in,  and  Miss  Laura  had 
us  show  off  any  of  our  tricks,  the  remark  alway' 
was,  ._.  Wiiat  clever  dogs.     They  are  not  like  other 

OOP'.'i.  • 


dogs. 


That  was  a  mistake.     Billy  and  I  were  not  any 


84 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


brighter  than  many  a  miserable  cur  that  skulked 
about  the  streets  of  Fairport.  It  was  kindness  and 
patience  that  did  it  all.  When  I  was  with  Jenkins 
he  thought  I  was  a  very  stupid  dog.  He  would 
have  laughed  at  the  idea  of  any  one  teaching  me 
anything.  But  I  was  only  sullen  and  obstinate, 
because  I  was  kicked  about  so  much.  If  he  had 
been  kind  to  me,  I  would  have  done  anything  for 
him. 

I  loved  to  wait  on  Miss  Laura  and  Mrs.  Morris, 
and  they  taught  both  Billy  and  me  to  make  our- 
selves useful  about  the  house.  Mrs.  Morris  didn't 
like  going  up  and  down  the  three  long  staircases, 

and  sometimes  we  just  raced  up  and  down,  waiting 
'  on  her. 

How  often  I  have  heard  her  go  into  the  hall 
and  say,  ' '  Please  send  me  down  a  clean  duster, 
Laura.  Joe,  you  get  it."  I  would  run  gayly  up 
the  steps,  and  then  would  come  Billy's  turn. 
• '  Billy,  I  have  forgotten  my  keys.     Go  get  them. ' ' 

After  a  time  we  began  to  know  the  names  of 
difif'^rent  articles,  and  where  they  were  kept,  and 
could  get  them  ourselves.  On  sweeping  days  we 
worked  very  hard,  and  enjoyed  the  fun.  If  Mrs. 
Morris  was  too  far  away  to  call  to  Mary  for  what  she 
wanted,  she  wrote  the  name  on  a  piece  of  paper, 
and  told  us  to  take  it  to  her. 

Billy  always  took  the  letters  from  the  postman, 
and  carried  the  morning  paper  up  to  Mr.  Morris's 
study,  and  I  always  put  away  the  clean  clothes. 
After  they  were  mended,  Mrs.  Morris  folded  each 
article  and  gave  it  to  me,  mentioning  the  name  of 


skulked 
ess  and 
Jenkins 
J  would 
ing  me 
stinate, 
he  had 
ling  for 

Morris, 
ke  our- 
;  didn't 
rcases, 
vaiting 

tie  hall 
duster, 
yly  up 
turn, 
hem." 
mes  of 
•t,  and 
lys  we 
f  Mrs. 
lat  she 
paper, 

tman, 
orris's 
othes. 
I  each 
me  of 


BILLY'S   TRAINING   CONTINUED 


85 


the  owner,  SO  that  I  could  lay  it  on  his  bed    Th 

bTth^  reV^n  r "^  -' ''- --  i"r 

smel  ton  .  ^""'"^^  ^^'"^^  have  a  strong 

thTn^^.    ;  s'\~  ^^^y  -yn't  notice  i^ 

thro..h  the  town,  and  at  ,ast  found  it  ll  ,1 

pair  of  her  boots  on  a  ra^rcred  chiM  Jn  ,u 

J  ^^^       cniid  m  the  erutter 

C.OS  rr,,:;-;;',^'^7^"'/-anbLox 

^n^      r/    '"'"''P^^^-      ^t   IS  the   custom  to  cut  the 

ends  of  fox    terrier' c  ^^r.:^       i         ,  ''    ''"® 

touched      R  n  •  ^"'  ^'^''^'^  *«'■•  ears  un- 

One  day    Mr.   Robins.n  came  in   to   see  hin, 

f  him  ith-   ''""  '^^^  '"^^^  ^  fine-iooHn;  t^ 
of  his  tli?"  "^  ^'^'^^^^'^"^^  -^  ""-^  '^y  the  iWf 

"Mr.    Robinson,"   said   IVTrc     i\t      • 
little  Billy,  who  lay  ;„  he   Ian     '-d!  T''    ''""'"^ 
that  this  little  dog  has  a  beauHf  n  '""  "'""^ 

body  ?  •  •  beautifully  proportioned 

P0inraTeaLt;ct::te^fre'^»--       -'' 

w:2^:j^4^: --^^^^^^^  -e  th. 
;s;::t:r..^^^^''-''----^^^^^^^ 

Mr   Robinson  would  not  answer  her.     H.  „„,„ 
laughed  ana   said  that  he  thought  she  and   M" 
Laura  were  both  •  ■  cranks. '  ■  "'^^ 


I 


CHAPTER  XI 

GOLDFISH    AND   CANARIES 

HE  Morris  boys  were  all  different.     Jack 
was  bright  and  clever,  Ned  was  a  wag, 
Willie  was  a  book-worm,  and  Carl  was 
a  born  trader. 

He  was  always  exchanging  toys  and  books  with 
his  schoolmates,  and  they  never  got  the  better  of 
hiTn  in  a  bargain.  He  said  that  when  lie  grew  up 
he  was  going  to  be  a  merchant,  and  he  had  already 
begun  to  carry  on  a  trade  in  canaries  and  goldfish. 
He  was  very  fond  of  what  he  called  "his  yellow 
pets,"  yet  he  never  kept  a  pair  of  birds  or  a  gold- 
fish, if  he  had  a  good  offer  for  them. 

He  slept  alone  in  a  large,  sunny  room  at  the 
top  of  the  house.  By  his  own  request,  it  was 
barely  furnished,  and  there  he  raised  his  canaries 
and  kept  his  goldfish. 

He  was  not  fond  of  having  visitors  coming  to 
his  room,  because,  he  said,  they  frightened  the 
canaries.  After  Mrs.  Morris  made  his  bed  in  the 
morning,  the  door  was  closed,  and  no  one  was 
supposed  to  go  in  till  he  came  from  schooL  Once 
Billy  and  I  followed  him  upstairs  without  his  know- 

86 


GOLDFISH   AND   CANARIES 


87 


ing  it,  but  as  soon  as  he  saw  us  he  sent  us  down 
in  a  great  hurry. 

One  day  Bella  walked  into  his  room  to  inspect 
the  canaries.  She  was  quite  a  spoiled  bird  by  this 
time,  and  I  heard  Carl  telling  the  family  afterward 
that  It  was  as  good  as  a  play  to  see  Miss  Bella 
struttmg  in  with  her  breast  stuck  out,  and  her  little 
conceited  air,  and  hear  her  say,  shrilly,  "Good 
mormng,  birds,  good  morning  !  How  do  you  do, 
Carl  ?     Glad  to  see  you,  boy. ' ' 

"Well,   I'm  not  glad  to   see  you,"  he  said 
decidedly,  "and   don't  you   ever  come  up   here 
agam.     You'd  frighten   my   canaries  to  death." 
And  he  sent  her  flying  downstairs. 

How  cross  she  was  !  She  came  shrieking  to 
Miss  Laura.  ' '  Bella  loves  birds.  Bella  wouldn't 
hurt  birds.     Carl' s  a  bad  boy. ' '  • 

Miss  Laura  petted  and  soothed  her,  telling  her 
to  go  find  Davy,  and  he  would  play  with  her.    Bella 
and  the  rat  were  great  friends.      It  was  very  funny 
to  see  them  going  about  the  house  together      From 
the  very  first  she  had  liked  him,  and  coaxed  him 
into  her  cage,    where  he  soon  became  quite  at 
home,— so  much  so  that  he  always  slept  there. 
About  nine  o'clock  every  evening,  if  he  was  not 
with  her,   she  went  all  over  the  house,   cryinp- : 
"Davy  !  Davy  !  time  to  go  to  bed.     Come  sleep 
in  Bella's  cage." 

He  was  very  fond  of  the  nice  sweet  cakes  she 
got  to  eat,  but  she  never  could  get  him  to  eat  cofi^ee 
giuuuds — the  food  she  liked  best. 

Miss  Laura  spoke  to  Carl  about  Bella,  and  told 


88 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


■" 


him   he  had  hurt  her  feelings,  so  he  petted  her 
a   little   to   make   up   for   it.     Then   his    mother 
told    him   that    she    thought   he    was   making  a 
mistake   in    keeping   his    canaries    so    much   to 
themselves.     They    had   become    so    timid,   that 
when    she    went   into   the   room    they   were    un- 
easy   till  she  left  it.       She  told  him   that  petted 
birds    or    animals    are   sociable    and   like    com- 
pany, unless  they  are  kept  by  themselves,  when 
they    become  shy.     She  advised    him  to  let  the 
other  boys  go  into  the  room,  and  occasionally  to 
bring    some    of    his    pretty    singers    downstairs, 
where    all    the  family  could    enjoy   seeing    and 
hearing  them,    and   where  they  would  get  used 
to  other  people  besides  himself. 

Carl  looked  thoughtful,  and  his  mother  went 
on*to  say  that  there  was  no  one- in  the  house,  not 
even  the  cat,  that  would  harm  his  birds. 

"  You  might  even  charge  admission  for  a  day 
or  two,"  said  Jack,  gravely,  "and  introduce  us  to 
them,  and  make  a  little  money." 

Carl  was  rather  annoyed  at  this,  but  his  mother 
calmed  him  by  showing  him  a  letter  she  had  just 
gotten  from  one  of  her  brothers,  asking  her  to  let 
one  of  her  boys  spend  his  Christmas  holidays  in 
the  country  with  him. 

"  I  want  you  to  go,  Carl,"  she  said. 
He  was  very  much  pleased,  but  looked  sober 
when  he  thought  of  his  pets.      "  Laura  and  I  will 
take  care  of  them."  said  his  mother,  "and  start 
the  new  managem.ent  of  them." 

"Very  well,"  said  Carl,  "  I  will  go  then  ;  I've 


GOLDFISH   AND   CANARIES 


89 


no  young  ones   now.  so  you  will  not  find  them 
much  trouble." 

I  thought  it  was  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  take 
care  of  them.     The  first  morning  after  Carl  left 
Billy,  and  Bella,  and  Davy,  and  I  followed  Miss 
Laura  upstairs.       She  made  us  sit  in  a  row  by  the 
door,  lest  we  should  startle  the  canaries.     She  had 
a  great  many  things  to  do.     First,  the   canaries 
had  their  baths.     They  had  to  get  them  at  the 
same  time  every  morning.     Miss  Laura  filled  the 
little   white  dishes   with  water  and  put   them   in 
the  cages,  and  then  came  and  sat  on  a  stool  by 
the  door.     Bella,    and  Billy,  and  Davy   climbed 
into  her  lap.  and  I  stood  close  by  her.     It  was  so 
funny  to  watch  those  canaries.     They  put  their 
heads  on  one  side  and  looked  first  at  their  little 
baths  and  then  at  «s.     They  knew  we  were  stran- 
gers.    Finally,  as  we  were  all  very  quiet,  they  got 
into  the  water  ;  and  what  a  good  time  they  had 
fluttering  their  wings  and  splashing,  and  cleaning 
themselves  so  nicely. 

Then  they  got  up  on  their  perches  and  sat  in 
the  sun.  shaking  themselves  and  picking  at  their 
feathers. 

Miss  Laura  cleaned  each  cage,  and  gave  each 
bird  some  mixed  rape  und  canary  seed.  I  heard 
Carl  tell  her  before  he  left  not  to  give  them  much 
hemp  seed,  for  that  was  too  fattening.  He  was 
very  careful  about  their  food.  During  the  sum- 
mer I  had  often  seen  him  taking  up  nice  ^reen 
things  to  them  :  celery,  chickweed.  tender^cab- 
bage,  peaches,  apples,  pears,  bananas  ;  and  now 


90 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


at  Christmas  time,  he  had  green  stuff  growing  in 
pots  on  the  window  ledge. 

Besides  that  he  gave  them  crumbs  of  coarse 
bread,  crackers,  lumps  of  sugar,  cuttle-fish  to  peck 
at,  and  a  number  of  other  things.  Miss  Laura 
did  everything  just  as  he  told  her  ;  but  I  think  she 
talked  to  the  birds  more  than  he  did.  She  was 
very  particular  about  their  drinking  water,  and 
washed  out  the  litde  glass  cups  that  held  it  most 
carefully. 

After  the  canaries  were  clean  and  comfortable. 
Miss  Laura  set  their  cages  in  the  sun,  and  turned 
to  the  goldfish.  They  were  in  large  glass  globes 
on  the  window-seat.  She  took  a  long-handled  tin 
cup,  and  dipped  out  the  fish  from  one  into  a  basin 
of  water.  Then  she  washed  the  globe  thoroughly 
and  put  the  fish  back,  and  scattered  wafers  of  fish 
food  on  the  top.  The  fish  came  up  and  snapped 
at  it,  and  acted  as  if  they  were  glad  to  get  it. 
She  did  each  globe  and  then  her  work  was  over 
for  one  morning. 

She  went  away  for  a  while,  but  every  few  hours 
through  the  day  she  ran  up  to  Carl's  room  to  see 
how  the  fish  and  canaries  were  getting  on.  If  the 
room  was  too  chilly  she  turned  on  more  heat ;  but 
she  did  not  keep  it  too  warm,  for  that  would  make 
the  birds  tender. 

After  a  time  the  canaries  got  to  know  her,  and 
hopped  gayly  around  their  cages,  and  chirped  and 
sang  whenever  they  saw  her  coming.  Then  she 
began  to  take  some  of  them  downstairs,  and  to  let 
them  out  of  their  cages  for  an  hour  or  two  every 


GOLDFISH    AND  CANAKIKS 

day.     They  were  very  happy  little 


91 


^,        ,        ,  ■       .  w  -  creatures,  and 

chased  each  other  about  the  room,  an<l  How  on 
M,ss  Laura's  head,  an<l  pecked  saucily  at  her  (ace 
as  she  sat  sewing  and  watchin-  then..  "Jhev 
were  not  at  all  afraid  of  me  nor  of  liilly,  and  it 
was  qu„e  a  sight  to  see  them  hopping  up  to  llella. 
bhe  lookf  I  so  large  beside  them. 

One  little  bi,,,  became  ill  while  Carl  was  away, 
and  Miss  Uura  had  to  give  it  a  great  <Ical  of  at- 
tention.      She  gave  it  plenty  „f   hemp   see.l   to 
make  ,t  fat,  and  very  often  the  yolk  of  a  hard- 
boded  egg,  and  kept  a  nail  in  its  drinking  water 
and  gave  it  a  few  drops   of  alcohol    in  its  batli 
every  morning  to  keep  it  from  taking  cold.       The 
moment  the   bird  finished  taking  its  hath.  Miss 
Laura  took  the  dish  fron,  the  cage,  for  the  alcohol 
made  the  water  poisonous.     Then  vermin   came 
on  It,  and  she  had  to  write  to  Carl  to  ask  him  what 
to  do.     He  told  her  to  hang  a  muslin  bag  full  of 
sulphur  over  the  swing,  ^o   that  the    bird   wo.dd 
dust  .t  down  on  her  feathers.     That  cued  the 
little  thmg,  and  when  Carl  came  home,  he  found 
.t  qmte  well  again.     One  day,  just  after  he  got 
back,  Mrs.  Montague  drove  up  to  the  hou.se  with 
a  canary  cage  carefully  done  up  in  a  shawl.     She 
sa,d  that  a  bad-tempered  housemaid,  in  cleaning 
the  cage  that  morning,  had  gotten  angry  with  the 
bird  and  struck  it,  breaking  its  leg.       She  was 
very  much  annoyed  with  the  girl  for  her  cruelty 
and  had  dismissed  her,  and  now  she  want.,!  r.^l 
to  take  her  bird  and  nurse  it,  as  she  knew  notliia-r 
about  canaries.  ** 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

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92 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Carl  had  just  come  in  from  school.  He  threw 
down  his  books,  took  the  shawl  from  the  cage 
and  looked  in.  The  poor  little  canary  was  sitting 
in  a  corner.  It  eyes  were  half  shut,  one  leg  hung 
loose,  and  it  was  making  faint  chirps  of  distress. 

Carl  was  very  much  interested  in  it.  He  got 
Mrs.  Montague  to  help  him.  and  together  they 
spht  matches,  tore  up  strips  of  musHn.  and  ban- 
daged the  broken  leg.  He  put  the  little  bird  back 
in  the  cage,  and  it  seemed  more  comfortable. 
"I  think  he  will  do  now."  he  said  to  Mrs.  Mon- 
tague, "but  hadn't  you  better  leave  him  with  me 
for  a  few  days  .? " 

She  gladly  agreed  to  this  and  went  away,  after 
telling  him  that  the  bird's  name  was  Dick. 

The  next  morning  at  the  breakfast  table  I 
heard  Carl  telling  his  mother  that  as  soon  as  he 
woke  up  he  sprang  out  of  bed  and  went  to  see 
how  his  canary  was.  During  the  night,  poor 
foolish  Dick  had  picked  off  the  splints  from  his 
1-g,  and  now  it  was  as  bad  as  ever.  "I  shall 
have  to  perform  a  surgical  operation."  he  said. 

I  did  not  know  what  he  meant,  so  I  watched 
him  when,  after  breakfast,  he  brought  the  bird 
down  to  his  mother's  room.  She  held  it  while  he 
took  a  pair  of  sharp  scissors,  and  cut  its  leg  right 
off  a  little  way  above  the  broken  place.  Then  he 
put  some  vaseline  on  the  tiny  stump,  bound  it  up, 
and  left  Dick  in  his  mother's  care.  All  the  morn- 
ing, as  she  sat  sewing,  she  watched  him  to  see 

that  he  did  not  nirk  the  Kor.H'>'-'> 

When  Carl  came  home,  Dick  was  so  much 


GOLDFISH   AND   CANARIES  93 

better  that  he  had  managed  to  fly  up  on  his 
perch,  and  was  eating  seeds  quite  gayly.  -  Poor 
Dick  !  "  said  Carl,  "leg  and  a  stump  !  "  Dick 
imitated  him  in  a  few  little  chirps,  "AW  and 
a  stump  !  • ' 

"Why,  he  is  saying  it  too,"  exclaimed  Carl 
and  burst  out  laughing. 

Dick  seemed  cheerful  enough,  but  it  was  very 
pitiful  to  see  him  dragging  his  poor  little  stump 
around  the  cage,  and  resting  it  against  the  perch 
to  keep  him  from  falling.  When  Mrs.  Montague 
came  the  next  day,  she  could  not  bear  to  look  at 
him.  "Oh,  dear!"  she  exclaimed,  "I  cannot 
take  that  disfigured  bird  home." 

I  could  not  help  thinking  how  different  she 
was  from  Miss  Laura,  who  loved  any  creature  all 
the  more  for  having  some  blemish  about  it 
"What  shall  I  do.?"  said  Mrs.  Montague  "I 
miss  my  iittle  bird  so  much.  I  shall  have  to  get  a 
new  one.     Carl,  will  you  sell  me  one  ? ' ' 

"I  will  ^zve  you  one,  Mrs.  Montague,"  said 
the  boy,  eagerly.     "  I  would  like  to  do  so." 

Mrs.  Morris  looked  pleased  to  hear  Carl  say 
this.  She  used  to  fear  sometimes,  that  in  his  love 
for  making  money,  he  would  become  selfish. 

Mrs.  Montague  was  very  kind  to  the  Morris 
family,  and  Carl  seemed  quite  pleased  to  do  her  a 
favor.  He  took  her  up  to  his  room,  and  let  her 
choose  the  bird  she  liked  best.  She  took  a  hand- 
some, yellow  one,  called  Barry.     He  was  a  ^ood 


and  a  great  favorite  of  Carl's.     The\oy 
put  him  in  the  cage,  wrapped  it  up  well,  for  it  was 


94 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


a  cold,  snowy  day,  and  carried  it  out  to  Mrs.  Mon- 
tague's sleigh. 

She  gave  him  a  pleasant  smile,  and  drove 
away,  and  Carl  ran  up  the  steps  into  the  house. 
"It's  all  right,  mother,"  he  said,  giving  Mrs. 
Morris  a  hearty,  boyish  kiss,  as  she  stood  waiting 
for  him.     "  I  don't  mind  letting  her  have  it." 

"But  you  expected  to  sell  that  one,  didn't 
you  ? ' '  she  asked. 

"Mrs.  Smith  said  maybe  she'd  take  it  when 
she  came  home  from  Boston,  but  I  (jare  say  she'd 
change  her  mind  and  get  one  there. ' ' 

\  "  How  much  were  you  going  to  ask  for  him  ?  " 

"Well,  I  wouldn't  sell  Barry  for  less  than  ten 
dollars,  or  rather,  I  wouldn't  have  sold  him,"  and 
he  ran  out  to  the  stable. 

Mrs.  Morris  sat  on  the  hall  chair,  patting  me 
as  I  rubbed  against  her,  in  rather  an  absent- 
minded  way.  Then  she  got  up  and  went  into  her 
husband's  study,  and  told  him  what  Carl  had 
done. 

Mr.  Morris  seemed  very  pleased  to  hear  about 
it,  but  when  his  wife  asked  him  to  do  something  to 
make  up  the  loss  to  the  boy,  he  said:  "I  had 
rather  not  do  that.  To  encourage  a  child  to  do  a 
kind  action,  and  then  to  reward  him  for  it,  is  not 
always  a  sound  principle  to  go  upon." 

But  Carl  did  not  go  without  his  reward.  That 
evening,  Mrs.  Montague's  coachman  brought  a 
note  to  the  house  addressed  to  Mr.  Carl  Morris. 
He  read  it  aloud  to  the  familv 

My  Dear  Carl  :  I  am  charmed  with  my  little 


GOLDFISH   AND   CANARIES  95 

s^i'c^Ats^nf  ^'  ^^'  ^l^ispered  to  me  one  of  the 
seciets  of  your  room.  You  want  fifteen  dollars 
WtToff^  buy  something  for  it.  I  assure  yo" 
won  t  be  offended  with  an  old  friend  for  supDlvin^ 
you  the  means  to  get  this  something.       '"PP^^^"^ 

Ada  Montague. 
•' Just^  the  thing  for  my  stationary  tank  for  the 
goldfish,  exclaimed  Carl.  "  T  ve  wanted  it  for  a 
long  time  :-it  isn't  good  to  keep  them  in  globes  • 
but  how  m  the  world  did  she  find  out  ?  I've  never 
told  any  one.  * ' 

Mrs.  Morris  smiled,  and  said,  "Barry  must 
have  told  her,"  as  she  took  the  money  from  Carl 
to  put  away  for  him. 

Mrs.  Montague  got  to  be  very  fond  of  her  new 
pet.  She  took  care  of  him  herself,  and  I  have 
heard  her  tell  Mrs.  Morris  most  wonderful  stories 
about  him—stories  so  wonderful  that  I  should  say 
they  were  not  true  if  I  did  not  how  intelligent 
dumb  creatures  get  to  be  under  kind  treatment 

She  only  kept  him  in  his  cage  at  night,  and 
when  she  began  looking  for  him  at  bedtime  to  put 
him  there,   he  always  hid   himself.     She  would 
search  a  short  time,  and  then  sit  down,  and  he 
always  came  out  of  his  hiding-place,  chirping  in  a 
saucy  way  to  make  her  look  at  him. 
^      She  said  that  he  seemed  to  take  delight  in  teas- 
mg  her.     Once  when  he  was  in  the  drawing-room 
with  her,  she  was  called  away  to  speak  to  some 
one  at  the  telephone.     When  she  came  back,  she 
found  that  one  of  the  servants  had  come  into  the 
room  and  left  the  door  open  leading  to  a  veranda. 


96 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


The  trees  outside  were  full  of  yellow  birds,  and 
she  was  in  despair,  thinking  that  Barry  had  tlown 
out  with  them.  She  looked  out,  but  could  not  see 
him.  Then,  lest  he  had  not  left  the  room,  she 
got  a  chair  and  carried  it  about,  standing  on  it  to 
examine  the  walls,  and  see  if  Barry  was  hidden 
among  the  pictures  and  bric-a-brac.  But  no  Barry 
was  there.  She  at  last  sank  down,  exhausted,  on  a 
sofa.  She  heard  a  wicked,  little  peep,  and  look- 
ing up,  saw  Barry  sitting  on  one  of  the  rounds  of 
the  chair  that  she  had  been  carrying  about  to  look 
for  him.  He  had  been  there  all  the  time.  She 
W2^s  so  glad  to  see  him,  that  she  never  thought  of 
scolding  him. 

He  was  never  allowed  to  fly  about  the  dining 
room  during  meals,  and  the  table  maid  drove  him 
out  before  she  set  the  table.  It  always  annoyed 
him,  and  he  perched  on  the  staircase,  watching  the 
door  through  the  railings.  If  it  was  left  open  for  an 
instant,  he  flew  in.  One  evening,  before  tea,  he  > 
did  this.  There  was  a  chocolate  cake  on  the  side- 
board, and  he  liked  the  look  of  it  so  much  that 
he  began  to  peck  at  it.  Mrs.  Montague  happened 
to  come  in,  and  drove  him  back  to  the  hall. 

While  she  was  having  tea  that  evening,  with 
her  husband  and  little  boy,  Barry  flew  into  the 
room  again.  Mrs.  Montague  told  Charlie  to  send 
him  out,  but  her  husband  said,  '*Wait,  he  is 
looking  for  something." 

He  was  on  the  sideboard,  peering  into  every 
dish,  and  trying  to  look  under  the  covers.  "  He 
is  after  the  chocolate  cake, ' '  exclaimed  Mrs.  Mon- 


ti 


is,  and 
d  flown 
lot  see 
>m,  she 
on  it  to 
hidden 
3  Barry 
d,  on  a 
d  look- 
inds  of 
to  look 
.  She 
ight  of 

dining 
ve  him 
inoyed 
ing  the 
1  for  an 
tea,  he. 
e  side- 
:h  that 
opened 


J,  with 

ito  the 

0  send 

he  is 


I 


GOLDFISH   AND   CANARIES  97 

tague.     "  Here,  Charlie,  put  this  on  the  staircase 
for  him." 

She  cut  off  a  little  scrap,  and  when  Charlie 
took  it  to  the  hall,  Barry  flew  after  him,  and  ate 
It  up. 

As  for  poor,  litde,  lame  Dick,  Carl  never  sold 
him,  and  he  became  a  family  pet.     His  cage  hung 
in  the  parlor,  and  from  morning  till  night  his  cheer- 
ful voice  was  heard,  chirping  and  singing  as  if  he 
had  not  a  trouble  in  the  world.     They  took  great 
care  of  him.     He  was  never  allowed  to  be  too  hot 
or  too  cold.     Everybody  gave  him  a  cheerful  word 
m  passing  his  cage,  and  if  his  singing  was  too 
loud,  they  gave  him  a  little  mirror  to  look  at  him. 
self  in.     He  loved  this  mirror,  and  often  stood 
before  it  for  an  hour  at  a  time. 


n 


\ 


every 
"  He 
Mon- 


CHAPTER  XII 


MALTA,    THE   CAT 


HE  first  time  I  had  a  good  look  at  the 
Morris  cat,  I  thought  she  was  the  queer- 
est-looking animal  I  had  ever  seen. 
She  was  dark  gray— just  the  color  of  a  mouse.  Her 
eyes  were  a  yellowish  green,  and  for  the  first  few 
days  I  was  at  the  Morrises*  they  looked  very  un- 
kindly at  me.  Then  she  got  over  her  dislike  and 
we  became  very  good  friends.  She  was  a  beautiful 
cat,  and  so  gentle  and  affectionate  that  the  whole 
family  loved  her. 

She  was  three  years  old,  and  she  had  come  to 
Fairport  in  a  vessel  with  some  sailors,  who  had 
gotten  her  in  a  far-away  place.  Her  name  was 
Malta,  and  she  was  called  a  maltese  cat. 

I  have  seen  a  great  many  cats,  but  I  never 
saw  one  as  kind  as  Malta.  Once  she  had  some 
little  kittens  and  they  all  died.  It  almost  broke 
her  heart.  She  cried  and  cried  about  the 
house  till  it  made  one  feel  sad  to  .hear  her. 
Then   she   ran    away  to  the  woods.      She  came 


t»v-n.        rrilil       a.     XXLL1\>       SUUllld       iXI 


hex     II 


iiiuutn,   ana 


putting    it  in   her  basket,   she  nursed  it    like    a 


MALTA,    THE   CAT 


99 


mother,  till  it  grew  old  enough  to  run  away  from 
her. 

She  was  a  very  knowing  cat,  and  always  came 
when  she  was  called.  Miss  Laura  used  to  wear  a 
little  silver  whistle  that  she.  blew  when  she  wanted 
any  of  her  pets.  It  was  a  shrill  whistle,  and  we 
could  her  it  a  long  way  from  home.  I  have  seen 
her  standing  at  the  back  door  whistling  for  Malta, 
and  the  pretty  creature's  head  would  appear  some- 
where—always high  up,  for  she  was  a  great 
climber,  and  she  would  come  running  along  the 
top  of  the  fence,  saying,  "Meow,  meow,"  in  a 
funny,  short  way. 

Miss  Laura  would  pet  her,  or  give  her  some- 
thing to  eat,  or  walk  around  the  garden  carrying 
her  on  her  shoulder.  Malta  was  a  most  affection- 
ate cat,  and  if  Miss  Laura  would  not  let  her  lick 
her  face,  she  licked  her  hair  with  her  little,  rough 
tongue.  Often  Malta  lay  by  the  fire,  licking  my 
coat  or  little  Billy's,  to  show  her  affection  for  us. 

Mary,   the  cook,  was   very  fond  of  cats,  and 
used  to  keep  Malta  in  the  kitchen  as  much  as  she 
could,  but  nothing  would  make  her  stay  down  there 
if  there  was  any  music  going  on  upstairs.     The 
Morris  pets  were  all  fond  of  music.     As  soon  as 
Miss  Laura  sat  down  to  the  piano  to  sing  or  play, 
we  came  from  all  parts  of  the  house.    Malta  cried 
to  get  upstairs,  Davy  scampered  through  the  hall, 
and  Bella  hurried  after  him.     If  I  was  outdoors  I 
ran  in  the  house,  and  Jim  got  on  a  box  and  looked 
through  the  window. 

Davy's  place  was  on  Miss  Laura's  shoulder. 


too 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


il 


his  pink  nose  run  in  the  curls  at  the  back  of  her 
neck.  I  sat  under  the  piano  beside  Malta  and 
Bella,  and  we  never  stirred  till  the  music  was 
over  ;  then  we  went  quietly  away. 

Malta  was  a  beautiful  cat — there  was  no  doubt 
about  it.  While  I  was  with  Jenkins  I  thought  cats 
were  vermin,  like  rats,  and  I  chased  them  every 
chance  I  got.  Mrs.  Jenkins  had  a  cat,  a  gaunt, 
long-legged,  yellow  creature,  that  ran  whenever 
we  looked  at  it. 

Malta  had  been  so  kindly  treated  that  she  never 
ran  from  any  one,  except  from  strange  dogs.  She 
knew  they  would  be  likely  to  hurt  her.  If  they 
came  upon  her  suddenly,  she  faced  them,  and  she 
was  a  pretty  good  fighter  when  she  was  put  to  it. 
I  once  saw  her  having  a  brush  with  a  big  mastiff 
that  lived  a  few  blocks  from  us,  and  giving  him 
a  good  fright,  which  just  served  him  right. 

I  was  shut  up  in  the  parlor.  Some  one  had 
closed  the  door,  and  I  could  not  get  out.  I  was 
watching  Malta  from  the  window,  as  she  daintily 
picked  her  way  across  the  muddy  street.  She  was 
such  a  soft,  pretty,  amiable-looking  cat.  She 
didn't  look  that  way,  though,  when  the  mastiff 
rushed  out  of  the  alleyway  at  her. 

She  sprang  back  and  glared  at  him  like  a  little, 
fierce  tiger.  Her  tail  was  enormous.  Her  eyes 
were  like  balls  of  fire,  and  she  was  spitting  and 
snarling,  as  if  to  say,  "  If  you  touch  me,  I'll  tear 
you  to  pieces  ! '  * 

X  he  uog,  big  as  he  was,  uiu.  not  uare  attacK  xier. 
He  walked  around    and  around,    like  a  great. 


MALTA,  THE   CAT 


lOl 


:  of  her 
ilta  and 
isic  was 

10  doubt 
ght  cats 
Q  every 
L  gaunt, 
henever 

le  never 
IS.    She 

If  they 
and  she 
nt  to  it. 

mastiff 
ing  him 

I* 

ne  had 
I  was 
daintily 
She  was 
t.  She 
mastiff 

5  a  little, 
ler  eyes 
ing  and 
I'll  tear 


ack  her. 


I  great. 


clumsy  elephant,  and  she  turned  her  small  body 
as  he  turned  his,  and  kept  up  a  dreadful  hissing 
and  spitting.  Suddenly  I  saw  a  Spitz  dog  hurrying 
down  the  street.  He  was  going  to  help  the  mas- 
tiff, and  Malta  would  be  badly  hurt.  I  had  barked 
and  no  one  had  come  to  let  me  out,  so  I  sprang 
through  the  window. 

Just  then  there  was  a  change.  Malta  had  seen 
the  second  dog,  and  she  knew  she  must  get  rid  of 
the  mastiff.  With  an  agile  bound  she  sprang  on 
his  back,  dug  her  sharp  claws  in,  till  he  put  his 
tail  between  his  legs  and  ran  up  the  street,  howling 
with  pain.  She  rode  a  little  way,  then  sprang  off, 
and  ran  up  the  lane  to  the  stable. 

I  was  very  angry  and  wanted  to  fight  some- 
thing, so  I  pitched  into  the  Spitz  dog.  He  was  a 
snarly,  cross-grained  creature,  no  friend  to  Jim  and 
me,  and  he  would  have  been  only  too  glad  of  a 
chance  to  help  kill  Malta. 

1  gave  him  one  of  the  worst  beatings  he  ever 
had.  I  don't  suppose  it  was  quite  right  for  me  to 
do  it,  for  Miss  Laura  says  dogs  should  never  fight ; 
but  he  had  worried  Malta  before,  and  he  had  no 
business  to  do  it..  She  belonged  to  our  family. 
Jim  and  I  never  worried  /tzs  cat.  I  had  been 
longing  to  give  him  a  shaking  for  some  time,  and 
now  I  felt  for  his  throat  through  his  thick  hair, 
and  dragged  him  all  around  the  street.  Then  I 
let  him  go,  and  he  was  a  civil  dog  ever  afterward. 

Malta  was  very  grateful,  and  licked  a  little 
place  where  the  Spitz  bit  me.  I  did  not  get 
scolded  for  the  broken  window.     Mary  had  seen 


I02 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


me   from    the   kitchen   window,    and  told    Mrs. 
Morris  that  I  had  gone  to  help  Malta. 

Malta  was  a  very  wise  cat.  She  knew  quite 
well  that  she  must  not  harm  the  parrot  nor  the 
canaries,  and  she  never  tried  to  catch  them,  even 
though  she  was  left  alone  In  the  room  with  them. 

I  have  seen  her  lying  in  the  sun,  blinking 
sleepily,  and  listening  with  great  pleasure  to  Dick's 
singing.  Miss  Laura  even  taught  her  not  to  hunt 
the  birds  outside. 

For  a  long  time  she  had  tried  to  get  it  into 
Malta's  head  that  it  was  cruel  to  catch  the  little 
sparrows  that  came  about  the  door,  and  just  after 
I  came,  she  succeeded  in  doing  so. 

Malta  was  so  fond  of  Miss  Laura,  that  when- 
ever she  caught  a  bird,  she  came  and  laid  it  at  her 
feet.  Miss  Laura  always  picked  up  the  little,  dead 
creature,  pitied  it  and  stroked  it,  and  scolded  Malta 
till  she  crept  into  a  corner.  Then  Miss  Laura  put 
the  bird  on  a  limb  of  a  tree,  and  Malta  watched 
her  attentively  from  her  corner. 

One  day  Miss  Laura  stood  at  the  window, 
looking  out  into  the  garden.  Malta  was  lying  on 
the  platform,  staring  at  the  sparrows  that  were 
picking  up  crumbs  from  the  ground.  She  trem- 
bled, and  half  rose  every  few  minutes,  as  if  to  go 
after  them.  Then  she  lay  down  again.  She  was 
trying  very  hard  not  to  creep  on  them.  Presently 
a  neighbor' s  cat  came  steaHng  along  the  fence, 
keeping  one  eye  on  Malta  and  the  other  on  the 
sparrows.  Malta  was  so  angry  !  She  sprang  up 
and  chased  her  away,  and  then  came  back  to  the 


MALTA,  THE   CAT 


103 


platform,  where  she  lay  down  again  and  waited 
for  the  sparrows  to  come  back.  For  a  long  time 
she  stayed  there,  and  never  once  tried  to  catch 
them. 

Miss  Laura  was  so  pleased.  She  went  to  the 
door,  and  said,  softly,  "Come  here,  Malta." 

The  cat  put  up  her  tail,  and,  meowing  gently, 
came  into  the  house.  Miss  Laura  took  her  up  in 
her  arms,  and  going  down  to  the  kitchen,  asked 
Mary  to  give  her  a  saucer  of  her  very  sweetest 
milk  for  the  best  cat  in  the  United  States  of 
America. 

Malta  got  great  praise  for  this,  and  I  never 
knew  of  her  catching  a  bird  afterward.  She  was 
well  fed  in  the  house,  and  had  no  need  to  hurt 
such  harmless  creatures. 

She  was  very  fond  of  her  home,  and  never 
went  far  away,  as  Jim  and  I  did.  Once,  when 
Willie  was  going  to  spend  a  few  weeks  with  a  little 
friend  who  lived  fifty  miles  from  Fairport,  he  took 
it  into  his  head  that  Malta  should  go  with  him. 
His  mother  told  him  that  cats  did  not  like  to  go 
away  from  home  ;  but  he  said  he  would  be  good 
to  her,  and  begged  so  hard  to  take  her,  that  at 
last  his  mother  consented. 

He  had  been  a  few  days  in  this  place,  when 
he  wrote  home  to  say  that  Malta  had  run  away. 
She  had  seemed  very  unhappy,  and  though  he  had 
kept  her  with  him  all  the  time,  she  had  acted  as 
if  she  wanted  to  get  away. 

When  the  letter  was'  read  to  Mr.  Morris,  he 
said,  "  Malta  is  on  her  way  home.     Cats  have  a 


I04 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


\ 


wonderful  cleverness  in  finding  their  way  to  their 
own  dwelling.  She  will  be  very  tired.  Let  us  go 
out  and  meet  her. '  * 

Willie  had  gone  to  this  place  in  a  coach.     Mr. 
Morris  got  a  buggy  and  took  Miss  Laura  and  me 
with  him,  and  we  started  out.     We  went  slowly 
along  the   road.     Every  little  while  Miss  Laura 
blew  her  whistle,   and  called,  "Malta,  Malta," 
and  I  barked  as  loudly  as  I  could.     Mr.   Morris 
drove   for  several   hours,  then  we   stopped  at  a 
house,  had  dinner,  and  then  set  out  again.     We 
were  going  through  a  thick  wood,  where  there  was 
a  (pretty  straight  road,  when  I  saw  a  small,  dark 
creature  away  ahead,  trotting  toward  us.     It  was 
Malta.   I  gave  a  joyful  bark,  but  she  did  not  know 
me,  and  plunged  into  the  wood. 

I  ran  in  after  her,  barking  and  yelping,  and 
Miss  Laura  blew  her  whistle  as  loudly  as  she 
could.  Soon  there  was  a  little  gray  head  peeping 
at  us  from  the  bushes,  and  Malta  bounded  out. 
gave  me  a  look  of  surprise  and  then  leaped  into 
the  buggy  on  Miss  Laura's  lap. 

What  a  happy  cat  she  was  !  She  purred  with 
delight,  and  licked  Miss  Laura's  gloves  over  and 
over  again.  Then  she  ate  the  food  they  had 
brought,  and  went  sound  asleep.  She  was  very 
thin,  and  for  several  days  after  getting  home  she 
slept  the  most  of  the  time. 

Malta  did  not  like  dogs,  but  she  was  very  good 
to  cats.  One  day,  when  there  was  no  one  about 
and  the  garden  was  very  quiet,  I  saw  her  go  steal- 
ing into  the  stable,  and  come  out  again,  followed 


MALTA,    THE   CAT 


105 


to  their 
.et  us  go 

h.  Mr. 
md  me 
:  slowly 
5  Laura 
Vlaita," 
Morris 
id  at  a 

I.  We 
ere  was 

II,  dark 
It  was 

>t  know 

ig,  and 
as  she 
•eeping 
d  out, 
;d  into 

d  with 
er  and 
:y  had 
5  very 
le  she 


by  a  sore-eyed,  starved-looking  cat,  that  had  been 
deserted  by  some  people  that  lived  in  the  next 
street.  She  led  this  cat  up  to  her  catnip  bed,  and 
watched  her  kindly,  while  she  rolled  and  rubbed 
herself  in  it.  Then  Malta  had  a  roll  in  it  herself, 
and  they  both  went  back  to  the  stable. 

Catnip  is  a  favorite  plant  with  cats,  and  Miss 
Laura  always  kept  some  of  it  growing  for  Malta. 

For  a  long  time  this  sick  cat  had  a  home  in 
the  stable.  Malta  carried  her  food  every  day, 
and  after  a  time  Miss  Laura  found  out  about  her, 
and  did  what  she  could  to  make  her  well.  In 
time  she  got  to  be  a  strong,  sturdy-looking  cat, 
and  Miss  Laura  got  a  home  for  her  with  an  invalid 
lady. 

It  was  nothing  new  for  the  Morrises  to  feed 
deserted  cats.  Some  summers,  Mrs.  Morris  said 
that  she  had  a  dozen  to  take  care  of.  Careless 
and  cruel  people  would  go  away  for  the  summer, 
shutting  up  their  houses,  and  making  no  provision 
for  the  poor  cats  that  had  been  allowed  to  sit 
snugly  by  the  fire  all  winter.  At  last,  Mrs.  Morris 
got  into  the  habit  of  putting  a  little  notice  in  the 
Fairport  paper,  asking  people  who  were  going 
away  for  the  summer  to  provide  for  their  cats  dur- 
their  absence. 


{good 
about 
steal- 
lowed 


CHAPTER  XIII 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   AN   ADVENTURE 


HI 


HE  first  winter  I  was  at  the  Morrises',  I 
had  an  adventure.  It  was  a  week 
before  Christmas,  and  we  were  having 
cold,  frosty  weather.  Not  much  snow  had  fallen, 
but  there  was  plenty  of  skating,  and  the  boys  were 
off  every  day  with  their  skates  on  a  little  lake  near 
Fairport. 

Jim  and  I  often  went  with  them,  and  we  had 
great  fun  scampering  over  the  ice  after  them,  and 
slipping  at  every  step. 

On  this  Saturday  night  we  had  just  gotten 
home.  It  was  quite  dark  outside,  and  there  was  a 
cold  wind  blowing,  so  when  we  came  in  the  front 
door,  and  saw  the  red  light  from  the  big  hall  stove 
and  the  blazing  fire  in  the  parlor  they  looked  very 
cheerful. 

I  was  quite  sorry  for  Jim  that  he  had  to  go  out 
to  his  kennel.  However,  he  said  he  didn't  mind. 
The  boys  got  a  plate  of  nice,  warm  meat  for  him 
and  a  bowl  of  milk,  and  carried  them  out,  and 
afterward  he  went  to  sleep.  Jim's  kennel  was  a 
very  snug  one.     Being  a  spaniel,   he  was  not  a 

io6 


THE    BEGINNING    OF   AN   ADVENTURE        lO/ 

very  large  dog,  but  his  kennel  was  as  roomy  as  if 
he  was  a  great  Dane.  He  told  me  that  Mr.  Morris 
and  the  boys  made  it,  and  he  liked  it  very  much, 
because  it  was  large  enough  for  him.  to  get  up  in 
the  night  and  stretch  himself,  when  he  got  tired  of 
lying  in  one  position. 

It  was  raised  a  little  from  the  ground,  and  it 
had  a  thick  layer  of  straw  over  the  floor.  Above 
was  a  broad  shelf,  wide  enough  for  him  to  lie  on, 
and  covered  with  an  old  catskin  sleigh  robe.  Jim 
always  slept  here  in  cold  weather,  because  it  was 
farther  away  from  the  ground. 

To  return  to  this  December  evening.  I  can 
remember  yet  how  hungry  I  was.  I  could  scarcely 
he  still  till  Miss  Laura  finished  her  tea.  Mrs. 
Morris,  knowing  that  her  boys  would  be  very  hun- 
gry, had  Mary  broil  some  beefsteak  and  roast  some 
potatoes  for  them  ;  and  didn't  they  smell  good  ! 

They  ate  all  the  steak  and  potatoes.  It  didn't 
matter  to  me,  for  I  wouldn't  have  gotten  any  if 
they  had  been  left.  Mrs.  Morris  could  not  afford 
to  give  to  the  dogs  good  meat  that  she  had  gotten 
for  her  children,  so  she  used  to  get  the  butcher  to 
send  her  liver,  and  bones,  and  tough  meat,  and 
Mary  cooked  them,  and  made  soup  and  broth, 
and  mixed  porridge  with  them  for  us. 

We  never  got  meat  three  times  a  day.  Miss 
Laura  said  it  was  all  very  well  to  feed  hunting 
dogs  on  meat,  but  dogs  that  are  kept  about  a  house 
get  ill  if  they  are  fed  too  well.  So  we  had  meat 
only  once  a  day,  and  bread  and  milk,  porridge, 
or  dog  biscuits,  for  our  other  meals. 


io8 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


I  made  a  dreadful  noise  when  I  was  eating. 

Ever   since   Jenkins  cut  my  ears  off,  I   had  had 

trouble  in  breathing.    The  flaps  had  kept  the  wind 

and  dust  from  the  inside  of  my  ears.     Now  that 

they  were  gone  my  head  was  stuffed  up  all  the 

time.     The  cold   weather   made   me  worse,  and 

sometimes  I  had  such  trouble  to  get  my  breath 

that   it  seemed  as  if  I  would  choke.     If  I  had 

opened  my  mouth,  and  breathed  through  it,  as  I 

have  seen  some  people  doing,  I  would  have  been 

more  comfortable,  but  dogs  always  like  to  breathe 

through  their  noses. 

'  "  You  have  taken  more  cold, ' '  said  Miss  Laura, 
this  night,  as  she  put  my  plate  of  food  on  the  floor 
for  me.     ' '  Finish  your  meat,  and  then  come  and  sit 
by  the  fire  with  me.     What !  do  you  want  more  .?' ' 
I  gave  a  little  bark,  so  she  filled  my  plate  for 
the  second  time.     Miss  Laura  never  allowed  any 
one  to  meddle  with  us  when  we  were  eating.    One 
day  she  found  Willie  teasing  me  by  snatching  at 
a  bone  that  I  was  gnawing.     "Willie,*'  she  said, 
"what  would  you  do  if  you  were  just  sitting  down 
to  the  table  feeling  very  hungry,  and  just  as  you 
began  to  eat  your  meat  and  potatoes,  I  would  come 
along  and  snatch  the  plate  from  you  ? ' ' 

"I  don't  know  what  I'd  do;'  he  said,  laugh- 
ingly ;   "but  I'd  want  to  wallop  you." 

"Well,"  she  said,  "I'm  afraid  that  Joe  will 
'  wallop '  you  some  day  if  you  worry  him  about 
his  food,  for  even  a  gentle  dog  will  sometimes  snap 
at  any  one  who  disturbs  him  at  his  meals  ;  so  you 
had  better  not  try  his  patience  too  far." 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   AN   ADVENTURE 


109 


Willie  never  teased  me  after  that,  and  I  was 
very  glad,  for  two  or  three  times  I  had  been 
tempted  to  snarl  at  him. 

After  I  finished  my  tea,  I  followed  Miss  Laura 
upstairs.  She  took  up  a  book  and  sat  down  in  a 
low  chair,  and  I  lay  down  on  the  hearth  rug  beside 
her. 

*  •  Do  you  know,  Joe, ' '  she  said  with  a  smile, 
' '  why  »you  scratch  with  your  paws  when  you  lie 
down,  as  if  to  make  yourself  a  hollow  bed,  and 
turn  around  a  great  many  times  before  you  lie 
down  ? ' ' 

Of  course  I  did  not  know,  so  I  only  stared  at 
her.  *  *  Years  and  years  ago, ' '  she  went  on,  gaz- 
ing down  at  me,  "there  weren't  any  dogs  living 
in  people's  houses,  as  you  are,  Joe.  They  were 
all  wild  creatures  running  about  the  woods.  They 
always  scratched  among  the  leaves  to  make  a  com- 
fortable bed  for  themselves,  and  the  habit  has 
come  down  to  you,  Joe,  for  you  are  descended 
from  them. ' ' 

This  sounded  very  interesting,  and  I  think  she 
was  going  to  tell  me  some  more  about  my  wild 
forefathers,  but  just  then  the  rest  of  the  family 
came  in. 

I  always  thought  that  this  was  the  snuggest  time 
of  the  day — when  the  family  all  sat  around  the  fire 
— Mrs.  Morris  sewing,  the  boys  reading  or  study- 
ing, and  Mr.  Morris  with  his  head  buried  in  a  news- 
paper, and  Billy  and  I  on  the  floor  at  their  feet. 

This  evening  I  was  feeling  very  drowsy,  and 
had  almost  dropped  asleep,  when  Ned  gave  me  a 


■  f 


no 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


push  with  his  foot.  He  was  a  great  tease,  and  he 
delighted  in  getting  me  to  make  a  simpleton  of 
myself.  I  tried  to  keep  my  eyes  on  the  fire,  but  I 
could  not,  and  just  had  to  turn  and  look  at  him. 

He  was  holding  his  book  up  between  himself 
and  his  mother,  and  was  opening  his  mouth  as  wide 
as  he  could  and  throwing  back  his  head,  pretend- 
ing to  howl. 

For  the  life  of  me  I  could  not  help  giving  a 
loud  howl.  Mrs.  Morris  looked  up  and  said, 
"Bad  Joe,  keep  still." 

The  boys  were  all  laughing  behind  their  books, 
for^they  knew  what  Ned  was  doing.  Presently  he 
started  off  again,  and  I  was  just  beginning  another 
howl  that  might  have  made  Mrs.  Morris  send  me 
out  of  the  room,  when  the  door  opened,  and  a 
young  girl  called  Bessie  Drury  came  in. 

She  had  a  cap  on  and  a  shawl  thrown  over  her 
shoulders,  and  she  had  just  run  across  the  street 
from  her  father's  house.  "Oh,  Mrs.  Morris," 
she  said,  "will  you  let  Laura  come  over  and  stay 
with  me  to-night  ?  Mamma  has  just  gotten  a  tele- 
gram from  Bangor,  saying  that  her  aunt,  Mrs.  Cole, 
is  very  ill,  and  she  wants  to  see  her,  and  papa  is 
going  to  take  her  there  by  to-night' s  train,  and  she 
is  afraid  I  will  be  lonely  if  I  don't  have  Kaura." 

"Can   you   not  come   and    spend  the  night 
here  .? "  said  Mrs.  Morris. 

"No,  thank  you  ;  I  think  mamma  would  rather 
have  me  stay  in  our  house." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mrs.  Morris,  "  I  think  Laura 
would  like  to  go. ' ' 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   AN   ADVENTURE 


III 


*•  Yes,  indeed,"  said  Miss  Laura,  smiling  at  her 
friend.      "  I  will  come  over  in  half  an  hour." 

"Thank  you,  so  much,"  said  Miss  Bessie. 
And  she  hurried  away. 

After  she  left,  Mr.  Morris  looked  up  from  his 
paper.  "There  will  be  some  one  in  the  house 
besides  those  two  girls  ? " 

"Oh,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Morris;  "Mrs.  Drury 
has  her  old  nurse,  who  has  been  with  her  for 
twenty  years,  and  there  are  two  maids  besides, 
and  Donald,  the  coachman,  who  sleeps  over  the 
stable.     So  they  are  well  protected." 

' '  Very  good, ' '  said  Mr.  Morris.  And  he  went 
back  to  his  paper. 

Of  course  dumb  animals  do  not  understand  all 
that  they  hear  spoken  of ;  but  I  think  human  beings 
would  be  astonished  if  they  knew  how  much  we  can 
gather  from  their  looks  and  voices.  I  knew  that 
Mr.  Morris  did  not  quite  like  the  idea  of  having 
his  daughter  go  to  the  Drury' s  when  the  master 
and  mistress  of  the  house  were  away,  so  I  made 
up  my  mind  that  I  would  go  with  her. 

When  she  came  down  stairs  with  her  little 
satchel  on  her  arm,  I  got  up  and  stood  beside  her. 
' '  Dear,  old  Joe, ' '  she  said,  '  *  you  must  not 
come."* 

I  pushed  myself  out  the  door  beside  her  after 
she  had  kissed  her  mother  and  father  and  the  boys. 
' '  Go  back,  Joe, ' '  she  said,  firmly. 

I  had  to  step  back  then,  but  I  cried  and  whined, 
and  she  looked  at  me  in  astonishment.  "  I  will 
be  back  in  the  morning,  Joe, ' '  she  said,  gently ; 


.112 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 

Then  she  shut  the 


•'  don't  squeal  in  that  way," 
door  and  went  out. 

I  felt  dreadfully.  I  walked  up  and  down  the 
floor  and  ran  to  the  window,  and  howled  without 
having  to  look  at  Ned.  Mrs.  Morris  peered  over 
her  glasses  at  me  in  utter  surprise.  "  Boys,"  she 
said,  ' '  did  you  ever  see  Joe  act  in  that  way 
before  ? ' ' 

"No,  mother,"  they  all  said. 

Mr.  Morris  was  looking  at  me  very  intently. 
He  had  always  taken  more  notice  of  me  than  any 
other  creature  about  the  house,  and  I  was  very 
fohd  of  him.  Now  I  ran  up  and  put  my  paws  on 
his  knees. 

"Mother,"  he  said,  turning  to  his  wife,  "let 
the  dog  go." 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  in  a  puzzled  way. 
"Jack,  just  run  over  with  him,  and  tell  Mrs. 
Drury  how  he  is  acting,  and  that  I  will  be  very 
much  obliged  if  she  will  let  him  stay  all  night  with 
Laura. ' ' 

Jack  sprang  up,  seized  his  cap,  and  raced 
down  the  front  steps,  across  the  street,  through  the 
gate,  and  up  the  gravelled  walk,  where  the  little 
stones  were  all  hard  and  fast  in  the  frost. 

The  Drurys  lived  in  a  large,  white  hoifte,  with 
trees  all  around  it,  and  a  garden  at  the  back. 
They  were  rich  people  and  had  a  great  deal  of 
company.  Through  the  summer  I  had  often  seen 
carriages  at  the  door,  and  ladies  and  gentlemen 
in  light  clothes  walking  over  the  lawn,  and  some- 
times I  smelled  nice  things  they  were  having  to  eat. 


THE    BEGINNING   OF  AN   ADVENTURE         II 3 

They  did  not  keep  any  dogs,  nor  pets  of  any  kind, 
so  Jim  and  I  never  had  an  excuse  to  call  there. 

Jack. and  I  were  soon  at  the  front  door,  and  he 
rang  the  bell  and  gave  me  in  charge  of  the  maid 
who  opened  it.  The  girl  listened  to  his  message 
for  Mrs.  Drury,  then  she  walked  upstairs,  smiling 
and  looking  at  me  over  her  shoulder. 

There  was  a  trunk  in  the  upper  hall,  and  an 
elderly  woman  was  putting  things  in  it.  A  lady 
stood  watching  her,  and  when  she  saw  me,  she 
gave  a  little  scream,  ' '  Oh,  nurse  !  look  at  that 
horrid  dog  !  Where  did  he  come  from  ?  Put  him 
out,  Susan." 

I  stood  quite  still,  and  the  girl  who  had 
brought  me  upstairs,  gave  her  Jack's  message. 

"Certainly,  certainly,"  said  the  lady,  when 
the  maid  finished  speaking.  "  If  he  is  one  of  the 
Morris  dogs,  he  is  sure  to  be  a  well-behaved  one. 
Tell  the  little  boy  to  thank  his  mamma  for  letting 
Laura  come  over,  and  say  that  we  will  keep  the 
dog  with  pleasure.  Now,  nurse,  we  must  hurry  ; 
the  cab  will  be  here  in  five  minutes. ' ' 

I  walked  softly  into  a  front  room,  and  there  I 
found  my  dear  Miss  Laura.  Miss  Bessie  was  with 
her,  and  they  were  cramming  things  into  a  port- 
manteau. •  They  both  ran  out  to  find  out  how  I 
came  there,  and  just  then  a  gentleman  came  hur- 
riedly upstairs,  and  said  the  cab  had  come. 

There  was  a  scene  of  great  confusion  and  hurry, 
but  in  a  few  minutes  it  was  all  over.  The  cab  had 
roiled  away,  and  the  house  was  quiet. 

' '  Nurse,  you  must  be  tired,  you-  had  better  ^o 


"4 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


to  bed,"  said  Miss  Bessie,  turning  to  the  elderly 
woman,  as  we  all  stood  in  the  hall.  "  Susan,  will 
you  bring  some  supper  to  the  dining-room,  for  Miss 
Morris  and  me  ?     What  will  you  have,  Laura  ?  ' ' 

"What  are  you  going  to  have  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Laura,  with  a  smile. 

"  Hot  chocolate  and  tea  biscuits." 

' '  Then  I  will  have  the  same. ' ' 

"  Bring  some  cake  too,  Susan,  said  Miss  Bessie, 
' '  and  something  for  the  dog.  I  dare  say  he  would 
like  some  of  that  turkey  that  was  left  from  dinner." 

If  I  had  had  any  ears  I  would  have  pricked 
them  up  at  this,  for  I  was  very  fond  of  fowl,  and 
I  never  got  any  at  the  Morrises',  unless  it  might 
be  a  stray  bone  or  two. 

What  fun  we  had  over  our  supper  !  The  two 
girls  sat  at  the  big  dining  table,  and  sipped  their 
chocolate,  and  laughed  and  talked,  and  I  had  the 
skeleton  of  a  whole  turkey  on  a  newspaper  that 
Susan  spread  on  the  carpet. 

I  was  very  careful  not  to  drag  it  about,  and 
Miss  Bessie  laughed  at  me  till  the  tears  came  in 
her  eyes.  "  That  dog  is  a  gentleman,"  she  said; 
' '  see  how  he  holds  bones  on  the  paper  with  his 
paws,  and  strips  the  meat  off  with  his  teeth.  Oh, 
Joe,  Joe,  you  are  a  funny  dog  !  And  you  are  hav- 
ing a  funny  supper.  I  have  heard  of  quail  on 
toast,  but  I  never  heard  of  turkey  on  newspaper. 

"Hadn't  we  better  go  to  bed?"  said  Miss 
Laura,  when  the  hall  clock  struck  eleven. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  we  had,"  said  Miss  Bessie. 
"  Where  is  this  animal  to  sleep  ? ' ' 


elderly 
in,  will 
or  Miss 
ra?" 
d  Miss 


Bessie, 
)  would 
nner." 
pricked 
vl,  and 
might 

'he  two 
d  their 
lad  the 
er  that 

it,  and 
ime  in 
le  said; 
ith  his 
.  Oh, 
re  hav- 
jail  on 
mper. 
i   Miss 

Bessie. 


THE    BEGINNING   OF   AN   ADVENTURE         II 5 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Miss  Laura  ;  "he  sleeps 
in  the  stable  at  home,  or  in  the  kennel  with  Jim." 

"  Suppose  Susan  makes  him  a  nice  bed  by  the 
kitchen  stove?"  said  Miss  Bessie. 

Susan  made  the  bed,  but  I  was  not  willing  to 
sleep  in  it.  I  barked  so  loudly  when  they  shut 
me  up  alone,  that  they  had  to  let  me  go  upstairs 
with  them. 

Miss  Laura  was  almost  angry  with  me,  but  I 
could  not  help  it.  I  had  come  over  there  to 
protect  her,  and  I  wasn't  going  to  leave  her,  if  I 
could  help  it. 

Miss  Bessie  had  a  handsomely  furnished  room, 
with  a  soft  carpet  on  the  floor,  and  pretty  curtains 
at  the  windows.  There  were  two  single  beds  in 
it,  and  the  two  girls  dragged  them  close  together, 
so  that  they  could  talk  after  they  got  in  bed. 

Before  Miss  Bessie  put  out  the  Hght,  she  told 
Miss  Laura  not  to  be  alarmed  if  she  heard  any  one 
walking  about  in  the  night,  for  the  nurse  was 
sleeping  across  the  hall  from  them,  and  she  would 
probably  come  in  once  or  twice  to  see  if  they  were 
sleeping  comfortably. 

The  two  girls  talked  for  a  long  time,  and  then 
they  fell  asleep.  Just  before  Miss  Laura  dropped 
off,  she  forgave  me,  and  put  down  her  hand  for 
me  to  lick  as  I  lay  on  a  fur  rug  close  by  her  bed. 

I  was  very  tired,  and  I  had  a  very  soft  and 
pleasant  bed,  so  I  soon  fell  into  a  heavy  sleep. 
But  I  waked  up  at  the  slightest  noise.  Once  Miss 
Laura  turned  in  bed,  and  another  time  Miss  Bessie 
laughed  in  her  sleep,  and  again,  there  were  queer 


ri6 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


crackling  noises  in  the  frosty  limbs  of  the  trees 
outside,  that  made  me  start  up  quickly  out  of  my 
sleep. 

There  was  a  big  clock  in  the  hall,  and  every 
time  it  struck  I  waked  up.  Once,  just  after  it  had 
struck  some  hour,  I  jumped  up  out  of  a  sound  nap. 
I  had  been  dreaming  about  my  early  home.  Jen- 
kins was  after  me  with  a  whip,  and  my  limbs  were 
quivering  and  trembling  as  if  I  had  been  trying  to 
get  away  from  him. 

I  sprang  up  and  shook  myself.  Then  I  took  a 
turn  around  the  room.  The  two  girls  were  breath- 
ing gently ;  I  could  scarcely  hear  them.  I 
walked  to  the  door  and  looked  out  into  the  hall. 
There  was  a  dim  light  burning  there.  The  door 
of  the  nurse's  room  stood  open.  I  went  quietly 
to  it  and  looked  in.  She  was  breathing  heavily 
and  muttering  in  her  sleep. 

I  went  back  to  my  rug  and  tried  to  go  to  sleep, 
but  I  could  not.  Such  an  uneasy  feeling  was 
upon  me  that  I  had  to  keep  walking  about.  I 
went  out  into  the  hall  again  and  stood  at  the  head 
of  the  staircase.  I  thought  I  would  take  a  walk 
through  the  lower  hall,  and  then  go  to  bed 
again. 

The  Drurys'  carpets  were  all  like  velvet,  and 
my  paws  did  not  make  a  rattling  on  them  as  they 
did  on  the  oil  cloth  at  the  Morrises'.  I  crept 
down  the  stairs  like  a  cat,  and  walked  a  ng  the 
lower  hall,  smelling  under  ;ili  ihe  doors,  listening 
as  I  went.  There  was  no  night  light  burning 
down  here,  and  it  was  quite  dark,  but  if  there  had 


THE   BEGINNING   OF   AN  ADVENTURE         II7 

been   any  strange   person   about   I   would    have 
smelled  him. 

I  was  surprised  when  I  got  near  the  farther  end 
of  the  hall,  to  see  a  tiny  gleam  of  light  shine  for 
an  instant  from  under  the  dining-room  door.  Then 
it  went  away  again.  The  dining-room  was  the 
place  to  eat.  Surely  nnne  of  the  people  in  the 
house  would  be  tJiere  after  the  supper  we  had. 

I  went  and  snifTed  under  the  door.  There 
was  a  smell  there  ;  a  strong  smell  like  beggars  and 
poor  people.  It  smelled  Hke  Jenkins.  It  was 
Jenkins. 


w. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

HOW  WE  CAUGHT  THE  BURGLAR 

HAT  was  the  wretch  doing  in  the  house 

with  my  dear  Miss  Laura  ?     I  thought  I 

would   go    crazy.     I    scratched  at   the 

door,  and  barked  and  yelped.     I  sprang  up  on  it, 

and  though  I  was  quite  a  heavy  dog  by  this  time, 

I  felt  as  light  as  a  feather. 

It  seemed  to  me  that  I  would  go  mad  if  I  could 

not  get  that   door  open.     Every  few  seconds   I 

stopped  and  put  my  head  down  to  the  doorsill  to 

listen.     There   was   a   rushing   about  inside  the 

room,  and  a  chair  fell  over,  and  some  one  seemed 

to  be  getting  out  of  the  window. 

This  made   me  worse  bian  ever.       I  did  not 

stop  to  think  that  I  was  only  a  medium-sized  dog, 

and  that  Jenkins  would  probably  kill  me,  if  he  got 

his  hands  on  me.     I  was  so  furious  that  I  thought 

only  of  getting  hold  of  hrn. 

In  the  midst  of  the  noise  that  I  made,  there 

was  a  screaming  and  a  rushing  to  and  fro  upstairs. 

I  ran  up  and  down  the  hall,  and  half-way  up  the 

steps  and  back  again.     I  did  not  want  Miss  Laura 

to  come  down,  but  how  was  I  to  make  her  under- 
ii8 


HOW   WE   CAUGHT   THE   BURGLAR  H9 

Stand  ?  There  she  was,  in  her  white  gown,  lean- 
ing over  the  railing,  and  holding  back  her  long 
hair,  her  face  a  picture  of  surprise  and  alarm. 

"The  dog  has  gone  mad,"  screamed  Miss 
Bessie.  ' '  Nurse,  pour  a  pitcher  of  water  on  him. ' ' 
The  nurse  was  more  sensible.  She  ran  down- 
stairs, her  night-cap  flying,  and  a  blanket  that  she 
had  seized  from  her  bed,  trailing  behind  her. 
"There  are  thieves  in  the  house,"  she  shouted  at 
the  top  of  her  voice,  "and  the  dog  has  found  it 
out. ' ' 

She  did  not  go  near  the  dining-room  door,  but 
threw  open  the  front  one,  crying,  "Policeman! 
Policeman  !  help,  help,  thieves,  murder  !  " 

Such  a  screaming  as  that  old  woman  made  ! 
She  was  worse  than  I  was.  I  dashed  by  her,  out 
through  the  hall  door,  and  away  down  to  the  gate, 
where  I  heard  some  one  running.  I  gave  a  few 
loud  yelps  to  call  Jim,  and  leaped  the  gate  as  the 
man  before  me  had  done. 

There  was  something  savage  in  me  that  night. 
I  think  it  must  have  been  the  smell  of  Jenkins.  I 
felt  as  if  I  could  tear  him  to  pieces.  I  have  never 
felt  so  wicked  since.  I  was  hunting  him,  as  he 
had  hunted  me  and  my  mother,  and  the  thought 
gave  me  pleasure. 

Old  Jim  soon  caught  up  with  me,  and  I  gave 
him  a  push  with  my  nose,  to  let  him  know  I  was 
glad  he  had  come.  We  rushed  swiftly  on,  and  at 
the  corner  caught  ud  with  thp  micf»roKi«  r,,o«  ,..u^ 


was  running  away  from  us. 


I  gave  an  angry  growl,  and  jumping  up,  bit  at 


i,20 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


his  leg.  He  turned  around,  and  though  it  was  not 
a  very  bright  night,  there  was  light  enough  for  me 
to  see  the  ugly  face  of  my  old  master. 

He  seemed  so  angry  to  think  that  Jim  and  I 
dared  to  snap  at  him.  He  caught  up  a  handful 
of  stones,  and  with  some  bad  words  threw  them 
at  us.  Just  then,  away  in  front  of  us,  \  as  a  queer 
whistle,  and  then  another  one  like  it  behind  us. 
Jenkins  made  a  strange  noise  in  his  throat,  and 
started  to  run  down  a  side  street,  away  from  the 
direction  of  the  two  whistles. 

I  was  afraid  that  he  was  going  to  get  away,  and 
thobgh  I  could  not  hold  him,  I  kept  springing  up 
on  him,  and  once  I  tripped  him  up.  Oh,  how 
furious  he  was  !  He  kicked  me  against  the  side 
of  a  wall,  and  gave  me  two  or  three  hard  blows 
with  a  stick  that  he  caught  up,  and  kept  throwing 
stones  at  me. 

I  would  not  give  up,  though  I  could  scarcely 
see  him  for  the  blood  that  was  running  over  my 
eyes.  Old  Jim  got  so  angry  whenever  Jenkins 
touched  me,  that  he  ran  up  behind  and  nipped 
his  calves,  to  make  him  turn  on  him. 

Soon  Jenkins  came  to  a  high  wall,  where  he 
stopped,  and  with  a  hurried  look  behind,  began  to 
climb  over  it.  The  wall  was  too  high  for  me  to 
jump.  He  was  going  to  escape.  What  shall  I 
do  ?  I  barked  as  loudly  as  I  could  for  some  one 
to  come,  and  then  sprang  up  and  held  him  by  the 
leg  as  he  was  getting  over. 

I  had  such  a  grip,  that  I  went  over  the  wall 
with  him,  and  left  Jim  on  the  other  side.     Jenkins 


HOW  WE  CAUGHT  THE  BURGLAR 


121 


fell  on  his  face  in  the  earth.  Then  he  got  up,  and 
with  a  look  of  deadly  hatred  on  his  face,  pounced 
upon  me.  If  help  had  not  come,  I  think  he  would 
have  dashed  out  my  brains  against  the  wall,  as  he 
dashed  out  my  poor  little  brothers'  against  the 
horse's  stall.  But  just  then  there  was;^  running 
sound.  Two  men  came  down  the  street  and  sprang 
upon  the  wall,  just  where  Jim  was  leaping  up  and 
down  and  barking  in  distress. 

I  saw  at  once  by  their  uniform  and  the  clubs  in 
their  hands,  that  they  were  policemen.  In  one 
short  instant  they  had  hold  of  Jenkins.  He  gave 
up  then,  but  he  stood  snarling  at  me  like  an  ugly 
dog.     "  If  it  hadn't  been  for  that  cur,  I'd  never  a 

been  caught.     Why , ' '  and  he  staggered  back 

and  uttered  a  bad  word,  "it's  me  own  dog." 

"  More  shame  to  you,"  said  one  of  the  poHce- 
men,  sternly  ;  "  what  have  you  been  up  to  at  this 
time  of  night,  to  have  your  own  dog  and  a  quiet 
minister's  spaniel  dog  a  chasing  you  through  the 
street.?" 

Jenkins  began  to  swear  and  would  not  tell  them 
anything.  There  was  a  house  in  the  garden,  and 
just  at  this  minute  some  one  opened  a  window  and 
called  out :   "  Hallo,  there,  what  are  you  doing  ? " 

"We're  catching  a  thief,  sir,"  said  one  of  the 
policemen,  "leastwise  I  think  that's  what  he's 
been  up  to.  Could  you  throw  us  down  a  bit  of 
rope?  We've  no  handcuffs  here,  and  one  of  us 
has  to  jTo  to  the  lock-uo  and  the  other  tn  WnQlnino-- 
t:on  street,  where  there's  a  woman  yelling  blue 
murder  ;  and  hurry  up,  please,  sir." 


122 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


1 


The  gentleman  threw  down  a  rope,  and  in  twc 
minutes  Jenkins'  wrists  were  tied  together,  and  he 
was  walked  through  the  gate,  saying  bad  words  as 
fast  as  he  could  to  the  policeman  who  was  leading 
him.  *♦  Good  dogs,"  said  the  other  policeman  to 
Jim  and  me.  Then  he  ran  up  the  street  and  we 
followed  him. 

As  we  hurried  along  Washington  street,  and 
came  near  our  house,  we  saw  lights  gleaming 
through  the  darkness,  and  heard  people  running 
to  and  fro.  The  nurse's  shrieking  had  alarmed 
the  neighborhood.  The  Morris  boys  were  all  out 
in  the  street  only  half  clad  and  shivering  with  cold, 
and  the  Drurys'  coachman,  with  no  hat  on,  and 
his  hair  sticking  up  all  over  his  head,  was  running 
about  with  a  lantern. 

The  neighbors'  houses  were  all  lighted  up,  and 
a  good  many  people  were  hanging  out  of  their 
windows  and  opening  their  doors,  and  caUing  to 
each  other  to  know  what  all  this  noise  meant. 

When  the  policeman  appeared  with  Jim  and 
me  at  his  heels,  quite  a  crowd  gathered  around 
him  to  hear  his  part  of  the  ^  story.  Jim  and  1 
dropped  on  the  ground  panting  as  hard  as  we 
could,  and  with  little  streams  of  water  running 
from  our  tongues.  We  were  both  pretty  well  used 
up.  Jim's  back  was  bleeding  in  several  places 
from  the  stones  that  Jenkins  had  thrown  at  him, 
and  I  was  a  mass  of  bruises. 

Presently  we  were  discovered,  and  then  what  a 
fuss  was  made  over  us.  '  •  Brave  dogs  !  noble 
dogs  !"   everybody  said,  and  patted  and  praised 


HOW  WE  CAUGHT  THE  BURGLAR 


123 


US.  We  were  very  proud  and  happy,  and  stood 
up  and  wagged  our  tails,  at  least  Jim  did,  and  I 
wagged  what  1  could.  Then  they  found  what  a 
state  we  were  in.  Mrs.  Morris  cried,  and  catching 
me  up  in  her  arms,  ran  in  the  house  with  me,  and 
Jack  followed  with  old  Jim. 

We  all  went  into  the  parlor.  There  was  a 
good  fire  there,  and  Miss  Laura  and  Miss  Bessie 
were  sitting  over  it.  They  sprang  up  when  they 
saw  us,  and  right  there  in  the  parlor  washed  our 
wounds,  and  made  us  lie  down  by  the  fire. 

"You  saved  our  silver,  brave  Joe,"  said  Miss 
Bessie;     "just  wait   till    my  papa   and   mamma, 
come  home,  and  see  what  they  will  say.     Well, 
Jack,    what   is  the  latest?"    as  the  Morris  boys 
came  trooping  into  the  room. 

"The  poHceman  has  been  questioning  your 
nurse,  and  examining  the  dining-room,  and  has 
gone  down  to  the  station  to  make  his  report,  and 
do  you  know  what  he  has  found  out  ? "  said  Jack, 
excitedly. 

•  •  No— what  ? ' '  asked  Miss  Bessie. 
"Why  that  villain  was   going  to  burn    your 
house. ' ' 

Miss  Bessie  gave  a  little  shriek.     ' '  Why,  what 
do  you  mean  ? ' ' 

"Well/'  said  Jack,  "they  think  by  what  they 
discovered,  that  he  planned  to  pack  his  bag  with 
silver,  and  carry  it  off ;  but  just  before  he  did  so  he 
would  pour  oil  around  the  room,  and  set  fire  to  it, 
so  people  would  not  find  out  that  he  had  been 
robbing  you." 


124 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


r 


"Why  we  might  have  all  been  burned  to 
death,"  said  Miss  Bessie.  "He  couldn't  burn 
the  dining-room  without  setting  fire  to  the  rest  of 
the  house. 

"  Certainly  not,"  said  Jack,  that  shows  what  a 
villain  he  is." 

"  Do  they  know  this  for  certain.  Jack  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Laura. 

"Well,  they  suppose  so;  they  found  some 
bottles  of  oil  along  with  the  bag  he  had  for  the 
silver." 

"  How  horrible  !  You  darling  old  Joe,  perhaps 
.you   saved   our   Hves,"    and  pretty   Miss   Bessie 
kissed  my  ugly,  swollen  head.     I  could  do  noth- 
ing but  hck  her  Httle  hand,  but  always  after  that  I 
thought  a  great  deal  of  her. 

It  is  now  some  years  since  all  this  happened, 
and  I  might  as  well  tell  the  end  of  it.  The  next 
day  the  Drurys  came  home,  and  everything  was 
found  out  about  Jenkins.  The  night  they  left 
Fairport  he  had  been  hanging  about  the  station. 
He  knew  just  who  were  left  in  the  house,  for  he 
had  once  suppHed  them  with  milk,  and  knew  all 
about  their  family.  He  had  no  customers  at  this 
time,  for  after  Mr.  Harry  rescued  me,  and  that 
piece  came  out  in  the  paper  about  him,  he  found 
that  no  one  would  take  milk  from  him.  His  wife 
died,  and  some  kind  people  put  his  children  in  an 
asylum,  and  he  was  obliged  to  sell  Toby  and  the 
cows.  Instead  of  learning  a  lesson  from  all  this, 
and  leading  a  better  life,  he  kept  sinking  lower. 
He  was,  therefore,  ready  for  any  kind  of  mis- 


HOW  WE  CAUGHT  THE  BURGLAR 


125 


chief  that  turned  up,  and  when  he  saw  the  Drurys 
going  away  in  the  train,  he  thought  he  would  steal 
a  bag  of  silver  from  their  sideboard,  then  set  fire 
to  the  house,  and  run  away  and  hide  the  silver. 
After  a  time  he  would  take  it  to  some  city  and 
sell  it. 

He  was  made  to  confess  all  this.  Then  for  his 
wickedness  he  was  sent  to  prison  for  ten  years, 
and  I  hope  he  will  get  to  be  a  better  man  there, 
and  be  one  after  he  comes  out. 

I  was  sore  and  stiff  for  a  long  time,  and  one 
day  Mrs.  Drury  came  over  to  see  me.  She  did 
not  love  dogs  as  the  Morrises  did.  She  tried  to, 
but  she  could  not. 

Dogs  can  see  fun  in  things  as  well  as  people 
can,  and  I  buried  my  muzzle  in  the  hearth-rug,  so 
that  she  would  not  see  how  I  was  curling  up  my 
lip  and  smiling  at  her. 

"You— are— a— good— dog,"  she  said,  slowly. 
"You  are"— then  she  stopped,  and  could  not 
think  of  anything  else  to  say  to  me.  I  got  up  and 
stood  in  front  of  her,  for  a  well-bred  dog  should 
not  He  down  when  a  lady  speaks  to  him.  I  wag- 
ged my  body  a  little,  and  I  would  gladly  have  said 
something  to  help  her  out  of  her  difficulty,  but  I 
couldn't.  If  she  had  stroked  me  it  might  have 
helped  her  ;  but  she  didn't  want  to  touch  me,  and 
I  knew  she  didn't  want  me  to  touch  her,  so  I  just 
stood  looking  at  her. 

"Mrs.  Morris,"  she  said,  turning  from  me 
with  a  puzzled  face,  "  I  don't  like  animals,  and  I 
can't  pretend  to,  for  they  always  find  me  out ;  but 


126' 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


I 


can't  you  let  that  dog  know  that  I  shall  feel  eter- 
nally grateful  to  him  for  saving  not  only  our 
property — for  that  is  a  trifle — but  my  darling 
daughter  from  fright  and  annoyance,  and  a  pos- 
sible injury  or  loss  of  life  ?  " 

•*  I  think  he  understands,"  said  Mrs.  Morris. 
"  He  is  a  very  wise  dog."  And  smiling  in  great 
amusement,  she  called  me  to  her  and  put  my  paws 
on  her  lap.  "Look  at  that  lady,  Joe.  She  is 
pleased  with  you  for  driving  Jenkins  away  from 
her  house.     You  remember  Jenkins  ? ' ' 

I  barked  angrily  and  limped  to  the  window. 

"How  intelligent  he  is,"  said  Mrs.  Drury. 
* '  My  husband  has  sent  to  New  York  for  a  watch- 
dog, and  he  says  that  from  this  on  our  house  shall 
never  be  without  one.  Now  I  must  go.  Your 
dog  is  happy,  Mrs.  Morris,  and  I  can  do  nothing 
for  him,  except  to  say  that  I  shall  never  forget 
him,  and  I  wish  he  would  come  over  occasionally 
to  see  us.  Perhaps  when  we  get  our  dog  he  will. 
I  shall  tell  my  cook  whenever  she  sees  him  to  give 
him  something  to  eat.  This  is  a  souvenir  for 
Laura  of  that  dreadful  night.  I  feel  under  a  deep 
obligation  to  you,  so  I  am  sure  you  will  allow  her 
to  accept  it."  Then  she  gave  Mrs.  Morris  a  little 
box  and  went  away. 

When  Miss  Laura  came  in,  she  opened  the  box, 
and  found  in  it  a  handsome  diamond  ring.  On 
the  inside  of  it  was  engraved  :  ' '  Laura,  in 
memory  of  December  20th,  18 — .  From  her 
grateful  friend,  Bessie.  *  * 

The  diamond  was  worth  hundreds  of  dollars, 


ai 

ra 

a 

ki 

SI 

th 


box, 
On 

,  in 
her 


HOW  WE  CAUGHT  THE  BURGLAR     127 

and  Mrs.  Morris  told  Miss  Laura  that  she  had 
rather  she  would  not  wear  it  then,  while  she  was 
a  young  girl.  It  was  not  suitable  for  her,  and  she 
knew  Mrs.  Drury  did  not  expect  her  to  do  so 
She  wished  to  give  her  a  valuable  present,  and 
this  would  always  be  worth  a  great  deal  of  money. 


CHAPTER  XV 


OUR  JOURNEY   TO    RIVERDALE 


[VERY  Other  summer,  the  Morris  children 
were  sent  to  some  place  in  the  country, 
so  that  they  could  have  a  change  of  air, 
and  see  what  country  life  was  like.  As  there  were 
so  many  of  them  they  usually  went  different  ways. 

The  summer  after  I  came  to  them,  Jack  and 
Carl  went  to  an  uncle  in  Vermont,  Miss  Laura  went 
to  another  in  New  Hampshire,  and  Ned  and  WilHe 
went  to  visit  a  maiden  aunt  who  lived  in  the  White 
Mountains. 

Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morris  stayed  at  home.  Fairport 
was  a  lovely  place  in  summer,  and  many  people 
came  there  to  visit. 

The  children  took  some  of  their  pets  with  them, 
and  the  others  they  left  at  home  for  their  mother 
to  take  care  of.  She  never  allowed  them  to  take 
a  pet  animal  anywhere,  unless  she  knew  it  would 
be  perfectly  welcome.  "  Don't  let  your  pets  be  a 
worry  to  other  people,"  she  often  said  to  them, 
"  or  they  will  dislike  them  and  you  too." 

Miss  Laura  went  away  earlier  than  the  others, 

for  she  had  run  down  through  the  spring,  and  was 
Z28 


OUR  JOURNEY  TO  RIVERDALE 


129 


pale  and  thin.  One  day,  early  in  June,  we  set  out. 
I  say  '  •  we, ' '  for  after  my  adventure  with  Jenkins, 
Miss  Laura  said  that  I  should  never  be  parted  from 
her.  If  any  one  invited  her  to  come  and  see 
them  and  didn't  want  me,  she  would  stay  at  home. 

The  whole  family  went  to  the  station  to  see  us 
off.  They  put  a  chain  on  my  collar  and  took  me 
to  the  baggage  office  and  got  two  tickets  for  me. 
One  was  tied  to  my  collar  and  the  other  Miss  Laura 
put  in  her  purse.  Then  I  was  put  in  a  baggage 
car  and  chained  in  a  corner.  I  heard  Mr.  Morris 
say  that  as  we  were  only  going  a  short  distance,  it 
was  not  worth  while  to  get  an  express  ticket  for  me. 

There  was  a  dreadful  noise  and  bustle  at  the 
station.  Whistles  were  blowing  and  people  were 
rushing  up  and  down  the  platform.  Some  men 
were  tumbling  baggage  so  fast  into  the  car  where 
I  was,  that  I  was  afraid  some  of  it  would  fall  on 
me. 

For  a  few  minutes  Miss  Laura  stood  by  the  door 
and  looked  in,  but  soon  the  men  had  piled  up  so 
many  boxes  and  trunks  that  she  could  not  see  me. 
Then  she  went  away.  Mr.  Morris  asked  one  of 
the  men  to  see  that  I  did  not  get  hurt,  and  I  heard 
some  money  rattle.     Then  he  went  away  too. 

It  was  the  beginning  of  June  and  the  weather 
had  suddenly  become  very  hot.  We  had  a  long, 
cold  spring,  and  not  being  used  to  the  heat,  it 
seemed  very  hard  to  bear. 

Before  the  train  started,  the  doors  of  the  bag- 
gage car  were  closed,  and  it  became  quite  dark 
inside.     The  darkness,  and  the  heat,  and  the  close 


I30 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


smell,  and  the  noise,  as  we  went  rushing  along, 
made  me  feel  sick  and  frightened. 

I  did  not  dare  to  lie  down,  but  sat  up  trembling 
and  wishing  that  we  might  soon  come  to  Riverdale 
Station.  But  we  did  not  get  there  for  some  time, 
and  I  was  to  have  a  great  fright. 

I  was  thinking  of  all  the  stories  that  I  knew  of 
animals  traveling.  In  February,  the  Drurys'  New- 
foundland watch-dog,  Pluto,  had  arrived  from  New 
York,  and  he  told  Jim  and  me  that  he  had  a  miser- 
able journey. 

A  gentleman  friend  of  Mr.  Drury's  had  brought 
him  from  New  York.  He  saw  him  chained  up  in 
his  car,  and  he  went  into  his  Pullman,  first  tipping 
the  baggage-master  handsomely  to  look  after  him. 
Pluto  said  that  the  baggage-master  had  a  very  red 
nose,  and  he  was  always  getting  drinks  for  himself 
when  they  stopped  at  a  station,  but  he  never  once 
gave  him  a  drink  or  anything  to  eat,  from  the  time 
they  left  New  York  till  they  got  to  Fairport.  When 
the  train  stopped  there,  and  Pluto's  chain  was  un- 
fastened, he  sprang  out  on  the  platform  and  nearly 
knocked  Mr.  Drury  down.  He  saw  some  snow 
that  had  sifted  through  the  station  roof  and  he  was 
so  thirsty  that  he  began  to  lick  it  up.  When  the 
snow  was  all  gone,  he  jumped  up  and  licked  the 
frost  on  the  windows. 

Mr.  Drury's  friend  was  so  angry.  He  found 
the  baggage-master,  and  said  to  him  :  "  What  did 
you  mean,  by  coming  into  my  car  every  few  hours, 
to  tell  me  that  the  dog  was  fed,  and  watered,  and 
comfortable?    I  shall  report  you.*' 


I  ! 


OUR  JOURNEY  TO  RIVERDALE 


131 


He  went  into  the  office  at  the  station,  and  com- 
plained of  the  man,  and  was  told  that  he  was  a 
drinking  man,  and  was  going  to  be  dismissed. 

I  was  not  afraid  of  suffering  like  Pluto,  because 
it  was  only  going  to  take  us  a  few  hours  to  get  to 
Riverdale.  I  found  that  we  always  went  slowly 
before  we  came  in  to  a  station,  and  one  time  when 
we  began  to  slacken  speed  I  thought  that  surely  we 
must  be  at  our  journey's  end.  However,  it  was 
not  Riverdale.  The  car  gave  a  kind  of  jump, 
then  there  was  a  crashing  sound  ahead,  and  we 
stopped. 

I  heard  men  shouting  and  running  up  and 
down,  and  I  wondered  what  had  happened.  It 
was  all  dark  and  still  in  the  car,  and  nobody  came 
in,  but  the  noise  kept  up  outside,  and  I  knew  some- 
thing had  gone  wrong  with  the  train.  Perhaps 
Miss  Laura  had  got  hurt.  Something  must  have 
happened  to  her  or  she  would  come  to  me. 

I  barked  and  pulled  at  my  chain  till  my  neck 
was  sore,  but  for  a  long,  long  time  I  was  there 
alone.  The  men  running  about  outside  must  have 
heard  me.  If  ever  I  hear  a  man  in  trouble  and 
crying  for  help  I  go  to  him  and  see  what  he 
wants. 

After  such  a  long  time  that  it  seemed  to  me  ii 
must  be  the  middle  of  the  night,  the  door  at  the 
end  of  the  car  opened,  and  a  man  looked  in. 
' '  This  is  all  through  baggage  for  New  York,  miss,  * ' 
I  heard  him  say  ;  "they  wouldn't  put  your  dog  in 
here." 

"Yes,  they  did — I  am  sure  this  is  the  car,"  I 


132 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


heard  in  the  voice  I  knew  so  well  ;  ' '  and  won' t 
you  get  him  out,  please  ?  He  must  be  terribly- 
frightened.  ' ' 

The  man  stooped  down  and  unfastened  my 
chain,  grumbling  to  himself  because  I  had  not 
been  put  in  another  car.  ' '  Some  folks  tumble  a 
dog  round  as  if  he  was  a  junk  of  coal,"  he  said, 
patting  me  kindly. 

I  was  nearly  wild  with  delight  to  get  with  Miss 
Laura  again,  but  I  had  barked  so  much,  and 
pressed  my  neck  so  hard  with  my  collar  that  my 
voice  was  all  gone.  I  fawned  on  her,  and  wagged 
myself  about,  and  opened  and  shut  my  mouth, 
but  no  sound  came  out  of  it. 

It  made  Miss  Laura  nervous.  She  tried  io 
laugh  and  cry  at  the  same  time,  and  then  bit  her 
lip  hard,  and  said  :   "Oh,  Joe,  don't." 

"He's  lost  his  bark,  hasn't  he?"  said  the 
man,  looking  at  me  curiously. 

"  It  is  a  wicked  thing  to  confine  an  animal  in  a 
dark  and  closed  car, ' '  said  Miss  Laura,  trying  to 
see  her  way  down  the  steps  through  her  tears. 

The  man  put  out  his  hand  and  helped  her. 
"  He's  not  suffered  much,  miss,"  he  said  ;  "  don't 
you  distress  yourself.  Now  if  you'd  been  a  brake- 
man  on  a  Chicago  train,  as  I  was  a  few  years  ago, 
and  seen  the  animals  run  in  for  the  stock  yards, 
you  might  talk  about  cruelty.  Cars  that  ought  to 
hold  a  certain  number  of  pigs,  or  sheep,  or  cattle, 
jammed  full  with  twice  as  manv.  and  half  of  'em 
thrown  out  choked  and  smothered  to  death.  I've 
seen  a  man  running  up  and  down,  raging  and 


OUR  JOURNEY  TO  RIVERDALE 


133 


swearing  because  the  railway  people  hadn't  let 
him  get  in  to  tend  to  his  pigs  on  the  road." 

"Miss  Laura  turned  and  looked  at  the  man 
with  a  very  white  face.  "  Is  iu  like  that  now  ? ' ' 
she  asked. 

* '  No,  no, ' '  he  said,  hastily.  '  *  It' s  better  now. 
They've  got  new  regulations  about  taking  care 
of  the  stock  ;  but  mind  you,  miss,  the  cruelty  to 
animals  isn't  all  done  on  the  railways.  There's  a 
great  lot  of  dumb  creatures  suffering  all  round 
everywhere,  and  if  they  could  speak,  'twould  be  a 
hard  showing  for  some  other  people  besides  the 
railway  men." 

He  lifted  his  cap  and  hurried  down  the  plat- 
form, and  Miss  Laura,  her  face  very  much  troubled, 
picked  her  way  among  the  bits  of  coal  and  wood 
scattered  about  the  platform,  and  went  into  the 
waiting  room  of  the  little  station. 

She  took  me  up  to  the  filter  and  let  some  water 
run  in  her  hand,  and  gave  it  to  me  to  lap.  Then 
she  sat  down  and  I  leaned  my  head  against  her 
knees,  and  she  stroked  my  throat  gently. 

There  were  some  people  sitting  about  the  room, 
and,  from  their  talk,  I  found  out  what  had  taken 
place.  There  had  been  a  freight  train  on  a  side 
track  at  this  station,  waiung  for  us  to  get  by.  The 
switchman  had  carelessly  left  the  switch  open  after 
this  train  went  by,  and  when  we  came  along  after- 
ward, our  train,  instead  of  running  in  by  the  plat- 
form, went  crashing"  into  the  freip^ht  train  If  we 
had  been  going  fast,  great  damage  might  have 
been  done.     As  it  was,  our  engine  was   smashed 


iU 


lUCAUTIFUL   JOE 


SO  badly  that  it  could  not  take  us  on  ;  the  passen- 
gers were  frightened  ;  and  wc  were  havinfr  a  tedi- 
ous time  waitintj  for  another  engine  to  come  and 
take  us  to  Riverdale. 

After  the  accident,  the  trainmen  were  so  busy 
that  Miss  Laura  could  get  no  one  to  release  me. 

While  I  sat  by  her,  I  noticed  an  old  gentleman 
staring  at  us.  He  was  such  a  queer-looking  old 
gentleman.  He  looked  like  a  poodle.  He  had 
bright  brown  eyes,  and  a  pointed  face,  and  a  shock 
of  white  hair  that  he  shook  every  few  minutes. 
Hcj  sat  with  his  hands  clasi)ed  on  the  top  of  his 
cane,  and  he  scarcely  took  his  eyes  from  Miss 
Laura's  face.  Suddenly  he  jumped  up  and  came 
and  sat  down  beside  her. 

"An  ugly  dog,  that,"  he  said,  pointing  to  me. 

Most  young  ladies  would  have  resented  this, 
but  Miss  Laura  only  looked  amused.  "  He  seems 
beautiful  to  me,"  she  said,  gently. 

"H'm,  because  he's  your  dog,"  said  the  old 
man,  darting  a  sharp  look  at  me.  "What's  the 
matter  with  him  ?" 

"This  is  his  first  journey  by  rail,  and  he's  a 
little  frightened." 

"  No  wonder.  The  Lord  only  knows  the  suf- 
fering of  animals  in  transportation,"  said  the  old 
gentleman.  "  My  dear  young  lady,  if  you  could 
see  what  I  have  seen,  you'd  never  eat  another  bit 
of  meat  all  the  days  of  your  life." 

Miss  Laura  wrinkled  her  foreheads  "  I  know 
— I  have  heard,"  she  faltered.  "It  must  be 
terrible. " 


OUR   JOURNKY    TO    RIVER  DALE 


135 


"Terrible — it's  awful,"  said  the  j^entleman. 
"Think  of  the  cattle  on  the  western  plains. 
Choked  with  thirst  in  summer,  and  starved  and 
frozen  in  winter.  Dehorned  and  goaded  on  to- 
trains  and  steamers.  Tossed  about  and  wounded 
and  suffering  on  voyages.  Many  of  them  dying 
and  being  thrown  into  the  sea.  Others  landed 
sick  and  frightened.  Some  of  them  slaughtered 
on  docks  and  wharves  to  keep  them  from  dropping 
dead  in  their  tracks.  What  kind  of  food  does 
their  flesh  make?  It's  rank  poison.  Three  of 
my  family  have  died  of  cancer  I  am  a  vege- 
tarian." 

The  strange  old  gentleman  darted  from  his 
seat,  and  began  to  pace  up  and  down  the  room. 
I  was  very  glad  he  had  gone,  for  Miss  Laura  hated 
to  hear  of  cruelty  of  any  kind,  and  her  tears  were 
dropping  thick  and  fast  on  my  brown  coat. 

The  gentleman  had  spoken  very  loudly,  and 
every  one  in  the  room  had  listened  to  what  he 
said.  Among  them,  was  a  very  young  man,  with 
a  cold,  handsome  face.  He  looked  as  if  he  was 
annoyed  that  the  older  man  should  have  made 
Miss  Laura  cry. 

"Don't  you  think,  sir,"  he  said,  as  the  old 
gentleman  passed  near  him  in  walking  up  and 
down  the  floor,  "  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of  mock 
sentiment  about  this  business  of  taking  care  of  the 
dumb  creation  ?  They  were  made  for  us.  They've 
cTQt  to  fiuffer  and  be  killed  to  sunnW  our  wants. 
The  cattle  and  sheep,  and  other  animals  would 
over-run  the  earth,  if  we  didn't  kill  them." 


136 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


"Granted,"  said  the  old  man,  stopping  right 
in  front  of  him.  "Granted,  young  man,  if  you 
take  out  that  word  suffer.  The  Lord  made  the 
sheep,  and  the  cattle,  and  the  pigs.  They  are 
his  creatures  just  as  much  as  we  are.  We  can 
kill  them,  but  we've  no  right  to  make  them 
suffer." 

"But  we  can't  help  it,  sir."  * 
"Yes,  we  can,  my  young  man.  It's  a  possi- 
ble thing  to  raise  healthy  stock,  treat  it  kindly, 
kill  it  mercifully,  eat  it  decently.  When  men  do 
thaf  I,  for  one,  will  cease  to  be  a  vegetarian. 
You're  only  a  boy.  You  haven't  traveled  as  I 
have.  I've  been  from  one  end  of  this  country  to 
the  other.  Up  north,  down  south,  and  out  west, 
I've  seen  sights  that  made  me  shudder,  and  I  tell 
you  the  Lord  will  punish  this  great  American 
nation  if  it  doesn't  change  its  treatment  of  the 
dumb  animals  committed  to  its  care. ' ' 

The  young  man  looked  thoughtful,  and  did 
not  reply.  A  very  sweet  faced  old  lady  sitting 
near  him  answered  the  old  gentleman.  I  don't 
think  I  have  ever  seen  such  a  fine-looking  old 
lady  as  she  was.  Her  hair  was  snowy  white,  and 
her  face  was  deeply  wrinkled,  yet  she  was  tall  and 
stately,  and  her  expression  was  as  pleasing  as  my 
dear  Miss  Laura's. 

"  I  do  not  think  we  are  a  wicked  nation,"  she 
said,  softly.  "We  are  a  younger  nation  than 
many  of  the  nations  of  the  earth,  and  I  think  that 
many  of  our  sins  arise  from  ignorance  and 
thoughtlessness." 


^1 


OUR   JOURNEY   TO    RIVERDALE 


137 


and 


• '  Yes,  madame,  yes,  madame, ' '  said  the  fiery 
old  gentleman,  staring  hard  at  her.  "I  agree 
with  you  there." 

She  smiled  very  pleasantly  at  him  and  went 
on.  "I,  too,  have  been  a  traveler,  and  I  have 
talked  to  a  great  many  wise  and  good  people  on 
the  subject  of  the  cruel  treatment  of  animals,  and 
I  find  that  many  of  them  have  never  thought 
about  it.  They,  themselves,  never  knowingly 
ill-treat  a  dumb  creature,  and  when  they  are  told 
stories  of  inhuman  conduct,  they  say  in  surpnse, 
'  Why,  these  things  surely  can't  exist !  *  You  see 
they  have  never  been  brought  in  contact  with 
them.  As  soon  as  they  learn  about  them,  they 
begin  to  agitate  and  say,  'We  must  have  this 
thing  stopped.     Where  is  the  remedy  ? '  * ' 

"And  what  is  it,  what  is  it,  madame,  in  your 
opinion  ? ' '  said  the  old  gentleman,  pawing  the 
floor  with  impatience. 

' '  Just  the  remedy  that  I  would  propose  for  the 
great  evil  of  intemperance, ' '  said  the  old  lady, 
smiling  at  him.  "Legislation  and  education. 
Legislation  for  the  old  and  hardened,  and  educa- 
tion for  the  young  and  tender.  I  would  tell  the 
schoolboys  and  schoolgirls  that  alcohol  will  destroy 
the  framework  of  their  beautiful  bodies,  and  that 
cruelty  to  any  of  God's  living  creatures  will  blight 
and  destroy  their  innocent  young  souls." 

The  young  man  spoke  again.      "Don't   you 

humane   people    lay  too  much    stress   upon   the 
education  of  our  youth  in  all  lofty  and  noble  sen- 


138 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


timents  ?  The  human  heart  will  always  be  wicked. 
Your  Bible  tells  you  that,  doesn't  it?  You  can't 
educate  all  the  badness  out  of  children. ' ' 

"We  don't  expect  to  do  that,"  said  the  old 
lady,  turning  her  pleasant  face  toward  him  ;  • '  but 
even  if  the  human  heart  is  desperately  wicked, 
shouldn't  that  make  us  much  more  eager  to  try  to 
educate,  to  ennoble,  and  restrain  ?  However,  as 
far  as  my  experience  goes,  and  I  have  lived  in 
this  wicked  world  for  seventy-five  years,  I  find 
that  the  human  heart,  though  wicked  and  cruel, 
as  you  say,  has  yet  some  soft  and  tender  spots, 
and  the  impressions  made  upon  it  in  youth  are 
never,  never  effaced.  Do  you  not  remember 
better  than  anything  else,  standing  at  your 
mother's  knee — ^the  pressure  of  her  hand,  her 
kiss  on  your  forehead  ? ' ' 

By  this  time  our  engine  had  arrived.  A 
whistle  was  blowing,  and  nearly  every  one  was 
rushing  from  the  room,  the  impatient  old  gentle- 
man among  the  first.  Miss  Laura  was  hurriedly 
trying  to  do  up  her  shawl  strap,  and  I  was  stand- 
ing by,  wishing  that  I  could  help  her.  The  old 
lady  and  the  young  man  were  the  only  other  peo- 
ple in  the  room,  and  we  could  not  help  hearing 
what  they  said. 

"Yes,  I  do,"  he  said  in  a  thick  voice,  and 
his  face  got  very  red.  ' '  She  is  dead  now — I  have 
no  mother. ' ' 

X   KJKJJ.      UVJy      .  CLX1V4.     txi^     V/XV^     XCl.\X  \      LcLlxJL    XiCl       XXCVXXVl 

on  his  shoulder.     They  were  standing  up,  and  she 
was  taller  than  he  was.      "  May  God  bless  you. 


OUR   JOURNEY   TO   RIVERDALE 


139 


your 
her 


I  know  you  have  a  kind  heart.  I  have  four  stal- 
wart boys,  and  you  remind  me  of  the  youngest. 
If  you  are  ever  in  Washington  come  to  see  me." 
She  gave  him  some  name,  and  he  Hfted  his  hat 
and  looked  as  if  he  was  astonished  to  find  out 
who  she  was.  Then  he,  too,  went  away,  and  she 
turned  to  Miss  Laura.  "Shall  I  help  you,  my 
dear?" 

"  If  you  please,"  said  my  young  mistress.  *'  I 
can't  fasten  this  strap." 

In  a  few  seconds  the  bundle  was  done  up,  and 
we  were  joyfully  hastening  to  the  train.  It  was 
only  a  few  miles  to  Riverdale,  so  the  conductor 
let  me  stay  in  the  car  with  Miss  Laura.  She 
spread  her  coat  out  on  the  seat  in  front  of  her, 
and  I  sat  on  it  and  looked  out  of  the  car  window 
as  we  sped  along  through  a*  lovely  country,  all 
green  and  fresh  in  the  June  sunhght.  How  light 
and  pleasant  this  car  was — so  different  from  the 
baggage  car.  What  frightens  an  animal  most  of 
all  things,  is  not  to  see  where  it  is  going,  not  to 
know  what  is  going  to  happen  to  it.  I  think  that 
they  are  very  like  human  beings  in  this  respect. 

The  lady  had  taken  a  seat  beside  Miss  Laura, 
and  as  we  went  along,  she  too  looked  out  of  the 
window  and  said  in  a  low  voice  : 


"  What  is  so  rare  as  a  day  in  June, 
Then,  if  ever,  come  perfect  days." 

i.  1.x (XL    u    V  \^i  y    LI  Uv,        saiU   iViiSS   x^duia.  ,         iiuvv 

sad  that  the   autumn   must   come,  and  the  cold 
winter. ' ' 


'40  BEAUTIFUL  JOE 

"No.  my  dear,  not  sad.  It  is  but  a  prepara- 
tion for  another  summer. ' ' 

"Yes.  I  suppose  it  is,"  said  Miss  Laura. 
Then  she  continued  a  little  shyly,  as  her  com- 
panion  leaned  over  to  stroke  my  cropped  ears  : 
* '  You  seem  very  fond  of  animals. ' ' 

"I  am,  my  dear.  I  have  four  horses,  two 
cows,  a  tame  squirrel,  three  dogs,  and  a  cat." 

"  You  should  be  a  happy  woman,"  said  Miss 
Laura,  with  a  smile. 

"  I  think  I  am.  I  must  not  forget  my  horned 
toad,  Diego,  that  I  got  in  California.  I  keep  him 
in  the  green-house,  and  he  is  very  happy  catching 
flies  and  holding  his  horny  head  to  be  scratched 
whenever  any  one  comes  near." 

"I  don't  see  how  any  one  can  be  unkind  to 
animals,"  said  Miss  Laura,  thoughtfully. 

"  Nor  I.  my  dear  child.     It  has  always  caused 
me  intense  pain  to  witness  the  torture  of  dumb 
animals.     Nearly  seventy  years  ago,  when  I  was 
a  little  girl  walking  the  streets  of  Boston.  I  would 
tremble  and  grow  faint  at  the  cruelty  of  drivers  to 
over-loaded  horses.     I  was  timid  and  did  not  dare 
speak  to  them.     Very  often,  I  ran  home  and  flung 
myself  in  my  mother's  arms  with  a  burst  of  tears, 
and  asked  her  if  nothing  could  be  done  to  help 
the    poor    animals.     With    mistaken,    motherly 
kindness,  she  tried  to  put  the  subject  out  of  my 
thoughts.     I  was  carefully  guarded  from  seeing  or 
hearing  of  any  instances  of  cruelty.     But  the  ani- 
mals went  on  sufl'ering  just  the  same,  and  when  I 
became  a  woman,  I  saw  my  cowardice.    I  agitated 


OUR   JOURNEY   TO    RIVERDALE  141 

the  matter  among  my  friends,  and  told  them  that 
our  whole  dumb  creation  was  groaning  together  in 
pain,  and  would  continue  to  groan,  unless  merci- 
ful human  beings  were  willing  to  help  them.     I 
was  able  to  assist  in  the  formation  of  several  socie- 
ties for  the  prevention  of  cruelty  to  animals,  and 
they  have  done  good  service.     Good  service  not 
only  to  the  horses  and  cows,  but  to  the  nobler  ani- 
mal, man.     I  believe  that  in  saying  to  a  cruel  man, 
'  You  shall  not  overwork,  torture,  mutilate,  nor  kill 
your  animal,  or  neglect  to  provide  it  with  proper 
food   and   shelter,'   we  are  making  him  a  little 
nearer  the  kingdom  of  heaven  than  he  was  before. 
For    'Whatsoever  a  man  soweth,   that  shall  he 
also  reap.'     If  he  sows  seeds  of  unkindness  and 
cruelty  to  man  and  beast,  no  one  knows  what  the 
blackness  of  the  harvest  will  be.     His  poor  horse, 
quivering  under  a  blow,  is  not  the  worst  sufferer.' 
Oh,   if  people  would  only  understand  that  their 
unkind  deeds  will  recoil  upon  their  own  heads 
with  tenfold  force— but,  my  dear  child,  I  am  fan- 
cying that  I  am  addressing  a  drawing-room  meet- 
ing—and here  we  are  at  your  station.     Good-bye  ; 
keep  your  happy  face  and  gentle  ways.     I  hope 
that  we  may  meet  again  some  day. ' '    She  pressed 
Miss  Laura's  hand,  gave  me  a  farewell  pat.  and 
the  next  minute  we  were  outside  on  the  platform, 
and  she  was  smihng  through  the  window  at  us. 


CHAPTER  XVI 


DINGLEY   FARM 


|Y  dear  niece,"  and  a  stout,  middle-aged 
woman,  with  a  red,  lively  face,  threw 
both  her  arms  around  Miss  Laura. 
"  How  glad  I  am  to  see  you,  and  this  is  the  dog. 
Good  Joe,  I  have  a  bone  waiting  for  you.  Here  is 
Uncle  John." 

A  tall,  good-looking  man  stepped  up  and  put 
out  a  big  hand,  in  which  my  mistress'  little  fingers 
were  quite  swallowed  up.  "I  am  glad  to  see  you, 
Laura.  Well,  Joe,  how  d'ye  do,  old  boy?  I've 
heard  about  you. ' ' 

It  made  me  feel  very  welcome  to  have  them 
both  notice  me,  and  I  was  so  glad  to  be  out  of  the 
train  that  I  frisked  for  joy  around  their  feet  as  we 
went  to  the  wagon.  It  was  a  big  double  one,  with 
an  awning  over  it  to  shelter  it  from  the  sun's  rays, 
and  the  horses  were  drawn  up  in  the  shade  of  a 
spreading  tree.  They  were  two  powerful  black 
horses,  and  as  they  had  no  bhnders  on,  they  could 
see  us  coming.  Their  faces  lighted  up  and  they 
— .  —  ..iiv;!-  cccij  aua  jjavvcu  iiic  ground,  and 
whinnied  when  Mr.  Wood  went  up  to  them.  They 


DINGLEY    FARM 


H3 


tried  to  rub  their  heads  against  him,  and  I  saw 
plainly  that  they  loved  him.  ' '  Steady  there.  Cle ve 
and  Pacer,"  he  said  ;   "now  back,  back  up." 

By  this  time.   Mrs.  Wood.   Miss  Laura  and  I 
were  in  the  wagon.     Then  Mr.  Wood  jumped  in, 
took  up  the  reins,  and  off  we  went.     How  the  two 
black  horses  did  spin  along  !     I  sat  on  the  seat  be- 
side Mr.  Wood,  and  sniffed  in  the  delicious  air, 
and  the  lovely  smell  of  flowers  and  grass.     How 
glad  I  was  to  be  in  the  country  !    What  long  races 
I  should  have  in  the  green  fields.     I  wished  that 
I  had  another  dog  to  run  with  me.  and  wondered 
very  much  whether  Mr.  Wood  kept  one.     I  knew 
I  should  soon  find  out.  for  whenever  Miss  Laura 
went  to  a  place  she  wanted  to  know  what  animals 
there  were  about. 

We  drove  a  little  more  than  a  mile  along  a 
country  road  where  there  were  scattered  houses. 
Miss  Laura  answered  questions  about  her  family, 
and  asked  questions  about  Mr.  Harry,  who  was 
away  at  college  and  hadn't  got  home.  I  don't 
think  I  have  said  before  that  Mr.  Harry  was  Mrs. 
Wood's  son.  She  was  a  widow  with  one  son  when 
she  married  Mr.  Wood,  so  that  Mr.  Harry,  though' 
the  Morrises  called  him  cousin,  was  not  really  their 
cousin. 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear'them  say  that  he  was 
soon  coming  home,  for  I  had  never  forgotten  that 
but  for  him  I  should  never  have  known  Miss  Laura 
and  gotten  into  my  pleasant  home. 

By-and-by,  I  heard  Miss  Laura  say  :  "Uncle 
John,  have  you  a  dog  ?  " 


144 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


"Yes,  Laura,"  he  said  ;  "  I  have  one  to-day, 
but  I  sha'n't  have  one  to-morrow." 

"  Oh,  uncle,  what  do  you  mean  ?  "  she  asked. 

"Well,  Laura,"  he  replied,  "you  know  ani- 
mals are  pretty  much  like  people.  There  are 
some  good  ones  and  some  bad  ones.  Now,  this 
dog  is  a  snarling,  cross-grained,  cantankerous 
beast,  and  when  I  heard  Joe  was  coming,  I  said  ; 
'  Now  we'll  have  a  good  dog  about  the  place,  and 
here's  an  end  to  the  bad  one.'  So  I  tied  Bruno 
up,  and  to-morrow  I  shall  shoot  him.  Something's 
got  to  be  done,  or  he'll  be  biting  some  one." 

"Uncle,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "people  don't  al- 
ways die  when  they  are  bitten  by  dogs,  do  they  ?' ' 

"  No,  certainly  not,"  replied  Mr.  Wood.  "  In 
my  humble  opinion  there's  a  great  lot  of  nonsense 
talked  about  the  poison  of  a  dog's  bite  and  people 
dying  of  hydrophobia.  Ever  since  I  was  born  I've 
had  dogs  snap  at  me  and  stick  their  teeth  in  my 
flesh  ;  and  I've  never  had  a  symptom  of  hydro- 
phobia, and  never  intend  to  have.  I  believe  half 
the  people  that  are  bitten  by  dogs  frighten  them- 
selves into  thinking  they  are  fatally  poisoned.  I 
was  reading  the  other  day  about  the  policemen  in 
a  big  city  in  England  that  have  to  catch  stray  dogs» 
and  dogs  supposed  to^  be  mad,  and  all  kinds  of 
dogs,  and  they  get  bitten  over  and  over  again,  and 
never  think  anything  about  it.  But  let  a  lady  or  a 
gentleman  walking  along  the  street  have  a  dog  bite 
them,  and  they  worry  themselves  till  their  blood  is 


1r^      ry      *jr^-9 T ^rk-»»         r%  tr^  ^    4-1%  .Aw 
11    a.    i^  V  ^i         - — 


iiiiu  uicy  have  to  hurry  across  to  France 


to  get  Pasteur  to  cure  them.  They  imagine  they've 


DINGLEY   FARM 


M5 


got  hydrophobia,  and  they've  got  it  because  they 
imagine  it.  I  believe  if  I  fixed  my  attention  on 
that  right  thumb  of  mine,  and  thought  I  had  a  sore 
there,  and  picked  at  it  and  worried  it,  in  a  short 
time  a  sore  would  come,  and  I'd  be  off  to  the  doc- 
tor to  have  it  cured.  At  the  same  time  dogs  have 
no  business  to  bite,  and  I  don't  recommend  any 
one  to  get  bitten. ' ' 

"But.  uncle,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "isn't  there 
such  a  thing  as  hydrophobia  .? " 

"  Oh,  yes  ;  I  dare  say  there  is.     I  believe  that 
a  careful  examination  of  the  records  of  death  re- 
ported in  Boston  from  hydrophobia  for  the  space 
of  thirty-two  years,  shows  that  two  people  actually 
died  from  it.     Dogs  are  like  all  other  animals. 
They're  liable  to  sickness,  and  they've  got  to  be 
watched.     I  think  my  horses  would  go  mad  if  I 
starved  them,   or  over-fed  them,  or  ovc  r- worked 
them,  or  let  them  stand  in  laziness,  or  kept  them 
dirty,  or  didn't  give  them  water  enough.     They'd 
get  some  disease,  anyway.     If  a  person  owns  an 
animal,  let  him  take  care  of  it,  and  it's  all  right. 
If  it  shows  signs  of  sickness,  shut  it  up  and  watch 
it.     If  the  sickness  is  incurable,  kill  it.     Here's  a 
sure  way  to  prevent  hydrophobia.     Kill  off  all 
ownerless  and  vicious  dogs.     If  you  can't  do  that, 
have  plenty  of  water  where  they  can  get  at  it.     A 
dog  that  has  all  the  water  he  wants,  will  never  go 
mad.     This  dog  of  mine  has  not  one  single  thing 
the  matter  with  him  but  pure  ugliness.     Yet,  if  I 
let  him  loose,  and  he  ran  through  the  village  with 
his  tongue  out,  I'll  warrant  you  there'd  be  a  cry  of 


146 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


'mad  dog  ! '  However,  I' ingoing  to  kill  him.  I've 
no  use  for  a  bad  dog.  Have  plenty  of  animals,  I 
say,  and  treat  them  kindly,  but  if  there's  a  vicious 
one  among  them,  put  it  out  of  the  way,  for  it  is  a 
constant  danger  to  man  and  beast.  It' s  queer  how 
ugly  some  people  are  about  their  dogs.  They'll 
keep  them  no  matter  how  they  worry  other  people, 
and  even  when  they're  snatching  the  bread  out  of 
their  neighbors'  mouths.  But  I  say  that  is  not  the 
fault  of  the  four-legged  dog.  A  human  dog  is  the 
worst  of  all.  There' s  a  band  of  sheep-killing  dogs 
here  in  Riverdale,  that  their  owners  can't,  or  won't, 
keiep  out  of  mischief.  Meek -looking  fellows  some 
of  them  are.  The  owners  go  to  bed  at  night,  and 
the  dogs  pretend  to  go,  too  ;  but  when  the  house  is 
quiet  and  the  family  asleep,  off  goes  Rover  or  Fido 
to  worry  poor,  defenseless  creatures  that  can't  de- 
fend themselves.  Their  taste  for  sheep's  blood  is 
like  the  taste  for  liquor  in  men,  and  the  dogs  will 
travel  as  far  to  get  their  fun,  as  the  men  will  travel 
for  theirs.  They've  got  it  in  them,  and  you  can't 
get  it  out." 

"Mr.  Windham  cured  his  dog,"  said  Mrs. 
Wood. 

Mr.  Wood  burst  into  a  hearty  laugh.  "  So  he 
did,  so  he  did.  I  must  tell  Laura  about  that. 
Windham  is  a  neighbor  of  ours,  and  last  summer 
I  kept  telling  him  that  his  collie  was  worrying  my 
Shropshires.  He  wouldn't  believe  me,  but  I  knew 
I  was  right,  and  one  night  when  Harry  was  home, 


ff 


T     i?  _  J 

1  uuu 


h**   •q.ir  ir»  w^''*"  fr\--  *\\r^  ^>-..—  r^-^A   1  — ,,„^ — A   X.I 

him  up  and  sent  for  Windham.     You  should  have 


DINGLEY    FARM 


m.  I've 
imals,  I 
vicious 
r  it  is  a 
eer  how 
They'll 
people, 
d  out  of 
not  the 
g  is  the 
ng  dogs 
r  won't, 
/s  some 
ht,  and 
louse  is 
or  Fido 
m't  de- 
Dlood  is 
3gs  will 
1  travel 
u  can't 

d  Mrs. 

'So  he 
it  that, 
ummer 
ing  my 
I  knew 
home, 

T     i?  _  J 

1   IICU 

d  have 


147 


•2en  his  face,  and  the  dog's  face.     He  said  two 
words,  '  You  scoundrel ! '  and  the  dog  cowered  at 
his  feet  as  if  he  had  been  shot.     He  was  a  fine 
dog.  but  he'd  got  corrupted  by  evil  companions. 
Then  Wmdham  asked  me  where  my  sheep  were 
I  told  him  in  the  pasture.     He  asked  me  if  I  still 
had  my  old  ram  Bolton.     I  said  yes,  and  then  he 
^yanted  eight  or  ten  feet  of  rope.     I  gave  it  to  him, 
and  wondered  what  on  earth  he  was  going  to  do 
with  It      He  tied  one  end  of  it  to  the  dog's  collar, 
and  holding  the  other  in  his  hand,  set  out  for  th-^ 
pasture.     He  asked  us  to  go  with  him,  and  when 
he  got  there,  he  told  Harry  he'd  like  to  see  him 
catch  Bolton.    There  wasn't  any  need  to  catch  him, 
he  d  come  to  us  like  a  dog.     Harry  whistled,  and 
when   Bolton  came   up,  Windham   fastened   the 
rope  s  end  to  his  horns,  and  let  him  go.     The  ram 
was  frightened  and  ran,  dragging  the  dog  with 
him      We  let  them  out  of  the  pasture  into  an  open 
held,  and  for  a  few  minutes  there  was  such  a  rac- 
ing and  chasing  over  that  field  as  I  never  saw 
before.     Harry  leaned  up  against  the  bars  and 
laughed  till   the  tears  rolled   down   his   cheeks. 
Ihen  Bolton  got  mad,  and  began  to  make  battle 
with  the  dog,  pitching  into  him  with  his  horns 
We  soon  stopped  that,  for  the  spirit  had  all  ^one 
out  of  Dash.     Windham  unfastened  the  rope,  and 
told  him  to  get  home,  and  if  ever  I  saw  a  dog  run 
that  one  did.     Mrs.  Windham  set  great  store  by 
him,  and  her  husband  didn't  want  to  kill  him    p.-t 

killing.  If  he  wanted  to  live.     That  cured  him 


'  I 


148 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


He's  never  worried  a  sheep  from  that  day  to  this, 
and  if  you  offer  him  a  bit  of  sheep's  wool  now,  he 
tucks  his  tail  between  his  legs,  and  runs  for  home. 
Now,  I  must  stop  my  talk,  for  we're  in  sight  of  the 
farm.  Yonder' s  our  boundary  line,  and  there's 
the  house.  You'll  see  a  difference  in  the  trees 
since  you  were  here  before. ' ' 

We  had  come  to  a  turn  in  the  road  where  the 
ground  sloped  gently  upward.  We  turned  in  at 
the  gate,  and  drove  between  rows  of  trees  up  to  a 
long,  low,  red  house,  with  a  veranda  all  round  it. 
Thpre  was  a  wide  lawn  in  front,  and  away  on  our 
right  were  the  farm  buildings.  They  too,  were 
painted  '"ed,  and  there  were  some  trees  by  them 
that  Mr.  Wood  called  his  windbreak,  because  they 
kept  the  snow  from  drifting  in  the  winter  time. 

I  thought  it  was  a  beautiful  place.  Miss  Laura 
had  been  here  before,  but  not  for  some  years,  so 
she,  too,  was  looking  about  quite  eagerly. 

"Welcome  to  Dingley  Farm,  Joe,"  said  Mrs. 
Wood,  with  her  jolly  laugh,  as  she  watched  me 
jump  from  the  carriage  seat  to  the  ground.  ' '  Come 
in,  and  I'll  introduce  you  to  pussy." 

' '  Aunt  Hattie,  why  is  the  farm  called  Dingley 
Farm  ? ' '  said  Miss  Laura,  as  we  went  into  the 
house.     * '  It  ought  to  be  Wood  Farm. ' ' 

"Dingley  is  made  out  of  'dingle,'  Laura. 
You  know  that  pretty  hollow  back  of  the  pasture  ? 
It  is  what  they  call  a  '  dingle. '  So  this  farm  was 
called  Dingle  Farm  till  the  people  around  about  got 
saying  •  Dingley  '  instead.  I  suppose  they  found 
it  easier.     Why,  here  is  Lolo  coming  to  see  Joe." 


/ 


DINGLEY   FARM 


149 


to  this, 
low,  he 
•  home. 
t  of  the 
there's 
e  trees 

ere  the 
i  in  at 
up  to  a 
•und  it. 
on  our 
3,  were 
y  thern 
se  they 
me. 

>  Laura 
iars,  so 

d  Mrs. 
ed  me 
'Come 

)ingley 
ito  the 

Laura, 
isture  ? 
:m  was 
out  got 
'  found 
ijoe." 


Walking  along  the  wide  hall  that  ran  through 
the  house  was  a  large  tortoise-shell  cat.     She  had 
a  prettily  marked  face,  and  she  was  waving  her 
large  tail  like  a  flag,  and  mewing  kindly  to  greet 
her  mistress.     But  when  she  saw  me  what  a  face 
she  made.     She  flew  on  the  hall  table,  and  putting 
up  her  back  till  it  almost  lifted  her  feet  from  the 
ground,  began  to  spit  at  me  and  bristle  with  rage. 
"Poor  Lolo,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  going  up  to 
her.     "Joe  is  a  good  dog.  and  not  like  Bruno. 
He  won't  hurt  you." 

I  wagged  myself  about  a  Httle,  and  looked 
kindly  at  her,  but  she  did  nothing  but  say  bad 
words  to  me.     It  was  weeks  and  weeks  before  I 
made  friends  with  that  cat.     She  was  a  young 
thing,  and  had  known  only  one  dog,  and  he  was 
a  bad  one,  so  she  supposed  all  dogs  were  like  him. 
Ihere  was  a  number  of  rooms  opening  off  the 
hall,  and  one  of  them  was  the  dining  room  where 
they  had  tea.     I  lay  on  a  rug  outside  the  door  and 
watched  them.     There  was  a  small  table  spread 
with  a  white  cloth,  and  it  had  pretty  dishes  and 
glassware  on  it.  and  a  good  many  different  kinds 
of  things  to  eat.     A  little  French  giri,  called  Adele, 
kept  coming  and  going  from  the  kitchen  to  give 
them  hot  cakes,  and  fried  eggs,  and  hot  coffee. 
As  soon  as  they  finished  their  tea,  Mrs.  Wood  gave 
me  one  of  the  best  meals  that  I  ever  had  in  my 
life. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

MR.    WOOD   AND    HIS    HORSES 

HE  morning  after  we  arrived  in  Riverdale, 
I  was  up  very  early  and  walking  around 
the  house.  I  slept  in  the  woodshed, 
and  could  run  outdoors  whenever  I  liked. 

The  woodshed  was  at  the  back  of  the  house, 
and  near  it  was  the  tool  shed.  Then  there  was  a 
carriage  house,  and  a  plank  walk  leading  to  the 
barnyard. 

I  ran  up  this  walk,  and  looked  into  the  first 
building  I  came  to.  It  was  the  horse  stable.  A 
door  stood  open,  and  the  morning  sun  was  glanc- 
ing in.  There  were  several  horses  there,  some 
with  their  heads  toward  me,  and  some  with  their 
tails.  I  saw  that  instead  of  being  tied  up,  there 
were  gates  outside  their  stalls,  and  they  could 
stand  in  any  way  they  liked. 

There  was  a  man  moving  about  at  the  other 
end  of  the  stable,  and  long  before  he  saw  me,  I 
knew  that  it  was  Mr.  Wood.  What  a  nice,  clean 
stable  he  had  !  There  was  always  a  foul  smell 
coming  out  of  Jenkins's  stable,  but  here  the  air 
seemed  as  pure  inside  as  outside.     There  was  a 

ISO 


/ 


MR.  WOOD   AND    HIS    HORSES 


151 


number  of  little  gratings  in  the  wall  to  let  in  the 
fresh  air,  and  they  were  so  placed  that  drafts 
would  not  blow  on  the  horses.  Mr.  Wood  was 
going  from  one  horse  to  another,  giving  them  hay, 
and  talking  to  them  in  a  cheerful  voice.  At  last 
he  spied  me,  and  cried  out,  ' '  The  top  of  the 
morning  to  you,  Joe  !  You  are  up  early.  Don't 
come  too  near  the  horses,  good  dog, "  as  I  walked 
in  beside  him  ;  * '  they  might  think  you  are  another 
Bruno,  and  give  you  a  sly  bite  or  kick.  I  should 
have  shot  him  long  ago.  'Tis  hard  to  make  a 
good  dog  suffer  for  a  bad  one,  but  that's  the  way 
of  the  world.  Well,  old  fellow,  what  do  you  think 
of  my  horse  stable  ?  Pretty  fair,  isn't  it  ? "  And 
Mr.  Wood  went  on  talking  to  me  as  he  fed  and 
groomed  his  horses,  till  I  soon  found  out  that  his 
chief  pride  was  in  them. 

I  like  to  have  human  beings  talk  to  me.  Mr. 
Morris  often  reads  his  sermons  to  me,  and  Miss 
Laura  tells  me  secrets  that  I  don't  think  she  would 
tell  to  any  one  else. 

I  watched  Mr.  Wood  carefully,  while  he 
groomed  a  huge,  gray  cart-horse,  that  he  called 
Dutchman.  He  took  a  brush  in  his  right  hand, 
and  a  curry-comb  in  his  left,  and  he  curried  and 
brushed  every  part  of  the  horse's  skin,  and  after- 
ward wiped  him  with  a  cloth.  ♦ '  A  good  grooming 
is  equal  to  two  quarts  of  oats,  Joe,"  he  said  to  me. 
Then  he  istooped  down  and  examined  the 
horse's  hoofs.  "Your  shoes  are  too  heavy. 
Dutchman,"  he  said;  "but  that  pig-headed 
blacksmith  thinks  he  knows  more  about  horses 


152 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


than  I  do.  'Don't  cut  the  sole  nor  the  frog,*  I 
say  to  him.  '  Don't  pare  the  hoof  so  much,  and 
don't  rasp  it ;  and  fit  your  shoe  to  the  foot,  and 
not  the  foot  to  the  shoe,'  and  he  looks  as  if  he 
wanted  to  say,  '  Mind  your  own  business.'  We'll 
not  go  to  him  again.  '  'Tis  hard  to  teach  an  old 
dog  new  tricks.'  I  got  you  to  work  for  me,  not 
to  wear  out  your  strength  in  lifting  about  his 
weighty  shoes." 

Mr.  Wood  stopped  talking  for  a  few  minutes, 
and  w'listled  a  tune.  Then  he  began  again. 
"I^ve  made  a  study  of  horses,  Joe.  Over  forty 
years  I've  studied  them,  and  it's  my  opinion  that 
the  average  horse  knows  more  than  the  average 
man  that  drives  him.  When  I  think  of  the  stupid 
fools  that  are  goading  patient  horses  about,  beat- 
ing them  and  misunderstanding  them,  and  think- 
ing they  are  only  clods  of  earth  with  a  little  life  in 
them,  I'd  Hke  to  take  their  horses  out  of  the  shafts 
and  harness  them  in,  and  I'd  trot  them  off  at  a 
pace,  and  slash  them,  and  jerk  them,  till  I  guess 
they'  d  come  out  with  a  little  less  patience  than  the 
animal  does. 

"  Look  at  this  Dutchman — see  the  size  of  him. 
You'd  think  he  hadn't  any  more  nerves  than  a  bit 
of  granite.  Yet  he's  got  a  skin  as  sensitive  as  a 
girl's.  See  how  he  quivers  if  I  run  the  curry-comb 
too  harshly  over  him.  The  idiot  I  got  him  from 
didn't  know  what  was  the  matter  with  him.  He'd 
bought  him  for  a  reliable  horse,  and  there  he  was, 
kicking  and  stamping  whenever  the  boy  went  near 
him.     '  Your  boy' s  got  too  heavy  a  hand,  Deacon 


MR.    WOOD  AND   HIS   HORSES 


153 


Jones,*  said  I,  when  he  described  the  horse's 
actions  to  me.  '  You  may  depend  upon  it,  a  four- 
legged  creature,  unlike  a  two-legged  one,  has  a 
reason  for  everything  he  does.'  '  But  he's  only  a 
draught  horse, '  said  Deacon  Jones.  *  Draught 
horse  or  no  draught  horse,'  said  I,  'you're  de- 
scribing a  horse  with  a  tender  skin  to  me,  and  I 
don't  care  if  he's  as  big  as  an  elephant.'  Well, 
the  old  man  grumbled  and  said  he  didn't  want 
any  thoroughbred  airs  in  his  stable,  so  I  bought 
you,  didn't  I,  Dutchman?"  and  Mr.  Wood 
stroked  him  kindly  and  went  to  the  next  stall. 

In  each  stall  was  a  small  tank  of  water  with  a 
sliding  cover,  and  I  found  out  afterward  that  these 
covers  were  put  on  when  a  horse  came  in  too 
heated  to  have  a  drink.  At  any  other  time,  he 
could  drink  all  he  liked.  Mr.  Wood  believed  in 
having  plenty  of  pure  water  for  all  his  animals 
and  they  all  had  their  own  place  to  get  a  drink. 

Even  I  had  a  little  bowl  of  water  in  the  wood- 
shed, though  I  could  easily  have  run  up  to  the 
barnyard  when  I  wanted  a  drink.  As  soon  as  I 
came,  Mrs.  Wood  asked  Adele  to  keep  it  there  for 
me  and  when  I  looked  up  gratefully  at  her,  she 
said  :  '*  Every  animal  should  have  its  own  feeding 
place  and  its  own  sleeping  place,  Joe ;  that  is  only 
fair." 

The  next  horses  Mr.  Wood  groomed  were  the 
black  ones,  Cleve  and  Pacer.  Pacer  had  some- 
thing wrong  with  his  mouthj  and  Mr.  Wood  turned 
back  his  Hps  and  examined  it  carefully.  This  he 
was  able  to  do,  for  there  were  large  windows  in  the 


154 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Stable  and  it  was  as  light  as  Mr.  Wood's  house 
was. 

••  No  dark  corners  here,  eh  Joe  !  "  said  Mr. 
Wood,  as  he  came  out  of  the  stall  and  passed  me 
to  get  a  bottle  from  a  shelf.  "When  this  stable 
was  built,  I  said  no  dirt  holes  for  careless  men  here. 
I  want  the  sun  to  shine  in  the  corners,  and  I  don't 
want  my  horses  to  smell  bad  smells,  for  they  hate 
them,  and  I  don't  want  them  starting  when  they 
go  into  the  light  of  day,  just  because  they've  been 
kept  in  a  black  hole  of  a  stable,  and  I've  never  had 
a  si(:k  horse  yet." 

He  poured  something  from  a  bottle  into  a  saucer 
and  went  back  to  Pacer  with  it.  I  followed  him 
and  stood  outside.  Mr.  Wood  seemed  to  be 
washing  a  sore  in  the  horse's  mouth.  Pacer 
winced  a  little,  and  Mr.  Wood  said:  "Steady, 
steady,  my  beauty  ;    'twill  soon  be  over." 

The  horse  fixed  his  intelligent  eyes  on  his 
master  and  looked  as  if  he  knew  that  he  was  try- 
ing to  do  him  good. 

"  Just  look  at  these  lips,  Joe,"  said  Mr.  Wood  ; 
delicate  and  fine  like  our  own,  and  yet  there  are 
brutes  that  will  jerk  them  as  if  they  were  made  of 
iron.  I  wish  the  Lord  would  give  horses  voices 
just  for  one  week.  I  tell  you  they'd  scare 
some  of  us.  Now,  Pacer,  that's  over.  I'm  not 
going  to  dose  you  much,  for  I  don't  believe  in 
it.  If  a  horse  has  got  a  serious  trouble,  get 
a  good  horse  doctor,  say  I.  If  it's  a  simple 
thing,  try  a  simple  remedy.  There's  been  many 
a   good    horse    drugged    and    dosed   to    death. 


MR.    WOOD   AND    HIS   HORSES 


155 


Well,    Scamp,    my   beauty,    how    are    you,    this 
morning  ? ' ' 

In  the  stall  next  to  Pacer,  was  a  small,  jet-black 
mare,  with  a  lean  head,  slender  legs,  and  a  curious 
restless  manner.  She  was  a  regular  greyhound  of 
a  horse,  no  spare  flesh,  yet  wiry  and  able  to  do  a 
great  deal  of  work.  She  was  a  wicked  looking  little 
thing,  so  I  thought  I  had  better  keep  at  a  safe  dis- 
tance from  her  heels. 

Mr.  Wood  petted  her  a  great  deal  and  I  saw 
that  she  was  his  favorite.  "  Saucebox,"  he  ex- 
claimed, when  she  pretended  to  bite  him,  "you 
know  if  you  bite  me,  I'll  bite  back  again.  I  think 
I've  conquered  you,"  he  said,  proudly,  as  he 
stroked  her  glossy  neck  ;  "but  what  a  dance  you 
led  me.  Do  you  remember  how  I  bought  you  for 
a  mere  song,  because  you  had  a  bad  habit  of  turn- 
ing around  like  a  flash  in  front  of  anything  that 
frightened  you,  and  bolting  off  the  other  way.? 
And  how  did  I  cure  you,  my  beauty  ?  Beat  you 
and  make  you  stubborn  ?  Not  I.  I  let  you  go 
round  and  round ;  I  turned  you  and  twisted 
you,  the  oftener  the  better  for  me,  till  at  last  I  got 
it  into  your  pretty  head  that  turning  and  twisting 
was  addling  your  brains,  and  you  had  better  let 
me  be  master. 

"You've  minded  me  from  that  day,  haven't 
you  ?  Horse,  or  man,  or  dog  aren't  much  good 
till  they  learn  to  obey,  and  I've  thrown  you  down 
and  I'll  do  it  again  if  you  bite  me,  so  take  care," 
Scamp  tossed  her  pretty  head,  and  took  little 
pieces  of  Mr.  Wood' s  shirt  sleeve  in  her  mouth. 


156 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


keeping  her  cunning  brown  eye  on  him  as  if  to 
see  how  far  she  could  go.  But  she  did  not  bite 
him.  I  think  she  loved  him,  for  when  he  left  her 
she  whinnied  shrilly,  and  he  had  to  go  back  and 
stroke  and  caress  her. 

After  that  I  often  used  to  watch  her  as  she 
went  about  the  farm.  She  always  seemed  to  be 
tugging  and  striving  at  her  load,  and  trying  to  step 
out  fast  and  do  a  great  deal  of  work.  Mr.  Wood 
was  usually  driving  her.  The  men  didn't  like  her, 
and  couldn't  manage  her.  She  had  not  been 
prc^perly  broken  in. 

After  Mr.  Wood  finished  his  work  he  went  and 
stood  in  the  doorway.  There  were  six  horses 
altogether:  Dutchman,  Cleve,  Pacer,  Scamp,  a 
bay  mare  called  Ruby,  and  a  young  horse  belong- 
ing to  Mr.  Harry,  whose  name  was  Fleetfoot. 

"  What  do  you  think  of  them  all  ? "  said  Mr. 
Wodti,  looking  down  at  me.  "A  pretty  fine-look- 
ing lot  of  horses,  aren'  t  they  ?  Not  a  thoroughbred 
there,  but  worth  as  much  to  me  as  if  each  had  a 
pedigree  as  long  as  this  plank  walk.  There's  a 
lot  of  humbug  about  this  pedigree  business  in 
horses.  Mine  have  their  manes  and  tails  anyway, 
and  the  proper  use  of  their  eyes,  which  is  more 
liberty  than  some  thoroughbreds  get. 

"I'd  like  to  see  the  man  that  would  persuade 
me  to  put  blinders  or  check-reins  or  any  other  in- 
strument of  torture  on  my  horses.  Don't  the  sim- 
pletons know  that  blinders  are  the  cause  of— well, 
I  wouldn't  like  to  say  how  many  of  our  accidents, 
Joe,  for  fear  you'd  think  me  extravagant,  and  the 


MR.    WOOD   AND   HIS   HORSES 


157 


check-rein  drags  up  a  horse's  head  out  of  its  fine 
natural  curve  and  presses  sinews,  bones,  and  joints 
together,  till  the  horse  is  well-nigh  mad.  Ah, 
Joe,  this  is  a  cruel  world  for  man  or  beast.  You're 
a  standing  token  of  that,  with  your  missing  ears 
and  tail.  And  now  I've  got  to  go  and  be  cruel, 
and  shoot  that  dog.  He  must  be  disposed  of 
before  anyone  else  is  astir.  How  I  hate  to  take 
life." 

He  sauntered  down  the  walk  to  the  tool  shed, 
went  in  and  soon  came  out  leading  a  large,  brown 
dog  by  a  chain.  This  was  Bruno.  He  was  snap- 
ping and  snarling  and  biting  at  his  chain  as  he 
went  along,  though  Mr.  Wood  led  him  very  kindly, 
and  when  he  saw  me  he  acted  as  if  he  could  have 
torn  me  to  pieces.  After  Mr.  Wood  took  him 
behind  the  barn,  he  came  back  and  got  his  gun. 
I  ran  away  so  that  I  would  not  hear  the  sound  of 
it,  for  I  could  not  help  feeling  sorry  for  Bruno. 

Miss  Laura's  room  was  on  one  side  of  the 
house,  and  in  the  second  story.  There  was  a  lit- 
tle balcony  outside  it,  and  when  I  got  near  I  saw 
that  she  was  standing  out  on  it  wrapped  in  a  shawl. 
Her  hair  was  streaming  over  her  shoulders,  and 
she  was  looking  down  into  the  garden  where  there 
were  a  great  many  white  and  yellow  flowers  in 
bloom. 

I  barked,  and  she  looked  at  me.  "Dear  old 
Joe,  I  will  get  dressed  and  come  down." 

She  hurried  into  her  room,  and  I  lay  on  the 
veranda  till  I  heard  her  step.  Then  I  jumped  up. 
She  unlocked  the  front  door,  and  we  went  for  a 


t58 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


walk  down  the  lane  to  the  road  until  we  heard  the 
breakfast  bell.  As  soon  as  we  heard  it  we  ran 
back  to  the  house,  and  Miss  Laura  had  such  an 
appetite  for  her  breakfast  that  her  aunt  said  the 
country  had  done  her  good  already. 


y^ 


CHAPTER  XVIII 


MRS.    wood's    poultry 

FTER  breakfast,  Mrs.  Wood  put  on  a 
large  apron,  and  going  into  the  kitchen, 
said:  "Have  you  any  scraps  for  the 
hens,  Adele  ?  Be  sure  and  not  give  me  anything 
salty.'* 

The  French  girl  gave  her  a  dish  of  food,  then 
Mrs.  Wood  asked  Miss  Laura  to  go  and  soj  her 
chickens,  and  away  we  went  to  the  poultry  house. 

On  the  way  we  saw  Mr.  Wood.  He  was  sit- 
ting on  the  step  of  the  tool  shed  cleaning  his  gun. 
"  Is  the  dog  dead  ? "  asked  Miss  Laura. 

"Yes,"  he  said. 

She  sighed  and  said:  "Poor  creature,  I  am 
sorry  he  had  to  be  killed.  Uncle,  what  is  the 
most  merciful  way  to  kill  a  dog  ?  Sometimes, 
when  they  get  old,  they  should  be  put  out  of  the 
way. ' ' 

"You  can  shoot  them,"  he  said,  "or  you  can 
poison  them.  I  shot  Bruno  through  his  head  into 
his  neck.  There's  a  right  place  to  aim  at.  It's  a 
little  one  side  of  the  top  of  the  skull.  If  you'll 
remind  me  I'll  show  you  a  circular  I  have  in  the 

»S9 


A 


lOO 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


house.  It  tells  the  proper  way  to  kill  animals. 
The  American  Humane  Education  Society  in 
Boston  puts  it  out,  and  it's  a  merciful  thing. 

"You  don't  know  anything  about  the  slaugh- 
tering of  animals,  Laura,  and  it's  well  you  don't. 
There's  an  awful  amount  of  cruelty  practised,  and 
practised  by  some  people  that  think  themselves 
pretty  good.  I  wouldn't  have  my  lambs  killed 
the  way  my  father  had  his  for  a  kingdom.  I'll 
never  forget  the  first  one  I  saw  butchered.  I 
wouldn't  feel  worse  at  a  hanging  now.  And  that 
white  ox,  Hattie — you  remember  my  telling  you 
aboui  him.  He  had  to  be  killed,  and  father  sent 
for  the  butcher,  I  was  only  a  lad,  and  I  was  all 
of  a  shudder  to  have  the  life  of  the  creature  I  had 
known  taken  from  him.  The  butcher,  stupid 
clown,  gave  him  eight  blows  before  he  struck  the 
right  place.  The  ox  bellowed,  and  turned  his 
great  black  eyes  on  my  father,   and  I  fell  in  a 

faint." 

Miss  Laura  turned  away,  and  Mrs.  Wood  fol- 
lowed her,  saying  :  "If  ever  you  want  to  kill  a  cat. 
Laura,  give  it  cyanide  of  potassium.  I  killed  a  poor 
old  sick  cat  for  Mrs.  Windham  the  other  day.  We 
put  half  a  teaspoonful  of  pure  cyanide  of  potassium 
in  a  long-handled  wooden  spoon,  and  dropped  it 
on  the  cat's  tongue,  as  near  the  throat  as  we 
could.  Poor  pussy — she  died  in  a  few  seconds. 
Do  you  know,  I  was  reading  such  a  funny  thing 
the  other  day  about  giving  cats  medicine.  They 
hate  it,  and  one  can  scarcely  force  it  into  their 
mouths  on  account  of  their  sharp  teeth.     The  way 


MRS.  WOOD'S   POULTRY 


l6l 


IS.  to  smear  it  on  their  sides,  and  they  lick  it  off. 
A  good  idea,  isn't  it.?  Here  we  are  at  the  hen 
house,  or  rather  one  of  the  hen  houses." 

"Don't   you   keep   your  hens  all  together  ?  " 
asked  Miss  Laura. 

"Only  in  the  winter  time,"  said  Mrs.  Wood. 
"  I  divide  my  flock  in  the  spring.  Part  of  them 
stay  here  and  part  go  to  the  orchard  to  live  in 
little  movable  houses  that  we  put  about  in  differ- 
ent places,  I  feed  each  flock  morning  and  even- 
ing at  their  own  little  house.  They  know  they'll 
get  no  food  even  if  they  come  to  my  house,  so 
they  stay  at  home.  And  they  know  they'll  get 
no  food  between  times,  so  all  day  long  they  pick 
and  scratch  in  the  orchard,  and  destroy  so  many 
bugs  and  insects  that  it  more  than  pays  for  the 
trouble  of  keeping  them  there. ' ' 

"Doesn't  this  flock  want  to  mix  up  with  the 
other.?"  asked  Miss  Laura,  as  she  stepped  into  the 
little  wooden  house. 

"No  ;  they  seem  to  understand.  I  keep  my 
eye  on  them  for  a  while  at  first,  and  they  soon  find 
out  that  they're  not  to  fly  either  over  the  garden 
fence  or  the  orchard  fence.  They  roam  over  the 
farm  and  pick  up  what  they  can  get.  There's  a 
good  deal  of  sense  in  hens,  if  one  manages  them 
properly.  I  Ipve  them  because  they  are  such  ^ood 
mothers. ' ' 

We  were  in  the  little  wooden  house  by  this  time, 
and  I  looked  around  it  with  surprise.  It  was  bet- 
ter than  some  of  the  poor  people's  houses  in  Fair- 
port.     The  walls  were  white  and  clean,  so  were 


•  l62 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


the  little  ladders  that  led  up  to  different  kinds  of 
roosts,  where  the  fowls  sat  at  night.  Some  roosts 
were  thin  and  round,  and  some  were  broad  and 
flat.  Mrs.  Wood  said  that  the  broad  ones  were  for 
a  heavy  fowl  called  the  Brahma.  Every  part  of 
the  little  house  was  almost  as  light  as  it  was  out- 
doors, on  account  of  the  large  windows. 

Miss   Laura   spoke  of  it.      "Why,    auntie,  I 
never  saw  such  a  light  hen  house. ' ' 

Mrs.  Wood  was  diving  into  a  partly  shut-in 
place,  where  it  was  not  so  light,  and  where  the 
nests  were.  She  straightened  herself  up,  her  face 
redder  than  ever,  and  looked  at  the  windows  with 
a  pleased  smile. 

"Yes,  there's  not  a  hen  house  in  New  Hamp- 
shire with  such  big  windows.  Whenever  I  look  at 
them,  I  think  of  my  mother's  hens,  and  wish  that 
they  could  have  had  a  place  like  this.  They 
would  have  thought  themselves  in  a  hen's  para- 
dise. When  I  was  a  girl  we  didn't  know  that 
hens  loved  light  and  heat,  and  all  winter  they  used 
to  sit  in  a  dark  hencoop,  and  the  cold  wi^s  so  bad 
that  their  combs  would  freeze  stiff,  and  the  tops  of 
them  would  drop  off.  We  never  thought  about  it. 
If  we'd  had  any  sense,  \ve  might  have  watched 
them  on  a  fine  day  go  and  sit  on  the  compost 
heap  and  sun  themselves,  and  then  have  con- 
cluded that  if  they  liked  light  and  heat  outside, 
they'd  like  it  inside.  Poor  biddies,  they  were  so 
cold  that  they  wouldn't  lay  us  any  eggs  in  winter.'* 


«'  Vr.1 

3.     ^„''  " 


vi    tciiv?^    ci   j^n^ai   iiitcicoL  lit    yuur  poultry, 
don't  you,  auntie?"   said  Miss  Laura. 


MRS.  wood's    poultry 


163 


kinds  of 
le  roosts 
oad  and 
were  for 
'  part  of 
vas  out- 

luntie,  I 

shut-in 
here  the 
her  face 
)ws  with 

Hamp- 
[  look  at 
ish  that 
They 
's  para- 
Low  that 
ley  used 
5  so  bad 

tops  of 
ibout  it. 
matched 
:ompost 
ve  con- 
outside, 
were  so 
^^inter.  * ' 
poultry, 


f 


"  Yes.  indeed,  and  well  I  may.    I'll  show  you 
my  brown   Leghorn,  Jenny,  that  lay  eggs  enough 
in  a  year  to  pay  for  the  newspapers  I  take  to  keep 
myself  posted  in  poultry  matters.     I  buy  all  my 
own  clothes  with  my  hen  money,  and  lately  I've 
started  a  bank  account,   for  I  want  to  save  up 
enough  to  start  a  few  stands  of  bees.     Even  if  I 
didn't  want  to  be  kind  to  my  hens,  it  would  pay 
me  to  be  so  for  sake  of  the  profit  they  yield      Of 
course  they're  quite  a  lot  of  trouble.     Sometimes 
they  get  vermin  on  them,  and  I  have  to  grease 
them   and   dust  carbolic  acid  on  them,  and   try 
some  of  my  numerous  cures.     Then  I  must  keep 
ashes  and    dust  wallows  for  them  and  be  very 
particular  about  my  eggs  when  hens  are  sitting 
and  see  that  the  hens  come  off  regularly  for  food 
and  exercise.     Oh,  there  are  a  hundred  things  I 
have  to  think  of,  but  I  always  say  to  any  one  that 
thinks  of  raising  poultry  :    '  If  you  are  going  into 
the  business  for  the  purpose  of  making  money   it 
pays  to  take  care  of  them. " ' 

"  There's  one  thing  I  notice,"  said  Miss  Laura 
"  and  that  is  that  your  drinking  fountains  must  be 
a  great  deal  better  than  the  shallow  pans  that  I 
have  seen  some  people  give  their  hens  water  in," 
"  Dirty  things  they  are,"  said  Mrs.  Wood  •   •''  I 
wouldn't  use  one  of  them.     I  don't  think  there  is 
anything  worse  for  hens  than  drinking  dirty  water 
My  hens  must  have  as  clean  water  as  I  drink 
myself,  and  in  winter  I  heat  it  for  them.     If  it's 
poured  boiling  into  the  fountains  in  the  morning 
It  keeps  warm  till  night.     Speaking  of  shallow 


'i64 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


ii 


'ii 


I 


drinking  dishes,  I  wouldn't  use  them,  even  before 
I  ever  heard  of  a  drinking  fountain.  John  made 
me  something  that  we  read  about.  He  used  to 
take  a  powder  keg  and  bore  a  Httle  hole  in  the  side, 
about  an  inch  from  the  top,  then  fill  it  with  water, 
and  cover  with  a  pan  a  little  larger  round  than  the 
keg.  Then  he  turned  the  keg  upside  down,  with- 
out taking  away  the  pan.  The  water  ran  into  the 
pan  only  as  far  as  the  hole  in  the  keg,  and  it  would 
have  to  be  used  before  more  would  flow  in.  Now 
let  us  go  and  see  my  beautiful,  bronze  turkeys. 
They  don't  need  any  houses,  for  they  roost  in  the 
trees  the  year  round." 

We  found  the  flock  of  turkeys,  and  Miss  Laura 
admired  their  changeable  colors  very  much.  Some 
of  them  were  very  large,  and  I  did  not  like  them, 
for  the  gobblers  ran  at  me,  and  made  a  dreadful 
noise  in  their  throats. 

Afterward,  Mrs.  Wood  showed  us  some  ducks 
that  she  had  shut  up  in  a  yard.  She  said  that  she 
was  feeding  them  on  vegetable  food,  to  give  their 
flesh  a  pure  flavor,  and  by-and-by  she  would  send 
them  to  market  and  get  a  high  price  for  them. 

Every  place  she  took  us  to  was  as  clean  as 
possible.  "  No  one  can  be  successful  in  raising 
poultry  in  large  numbers,"  she  said,  "unless  they 
keep  their  quarters  clean  and  comfortable." 

As  yet  we  had  seen  no  hens,  except  a  few  on 
the  nests,  and  Miss  Laura  said,  "Where  are  they  ? 
I  should  like  to  see  them. ' ' 


Lucy  a.ic    cuimng,        saiu    iviis.    vv  «juu. 


""  11 


is  just  their  breakfast  time,  and  they  are  as  punc- 


ti  before 
n  made 
used  to 
:he  side, 
ti  water, 
;han  the 
n,  with- 
into  the 
it  would 
.  Now 
turkeys. 
5t  in  the 

;s  Laura 
I.  Some 
e  them, 
dreadful 

e  ducks 
that  she 
ve  their 
lid  send 
lem. 
:lean  as 
I  raising 
ess  they 


MRS.  wood's   poultry 


165 


tual  as  clockwork.     They  go  off  early  in  the  morn- 
ing, to  scratch  about  a  little  for  themselves  first." 

As  she  spoke  she  stepped  off  the  plank  walk, 
and  looked  off  towards  the  fields. 

Miss  Laura  burst  out  laughing.  Away  beyond 
the  barns  the  hens  were  coming.  Seeing  Mrs. 
Wood  standing  there,  they  thought  they  were  late, 
and  began  to  run  and  fly.  jumping  over  each 
other's  backs,  and  stretching  out  their  necks,  in  a 
state  of  great  excitement.  Some  of  their  legs 
seemed  sticking  straight  out  behind.  It  was  very 
funny  to  see  them. 

They  were  a  fine-looking  lot  of  poultry,  mostly 
white,  with  glossy  feathers  and  bright  eyes.  They 
greedily  ate  the  food  scattered  to  them,  and  Mrs. 
Wood  said,  "  They  think  I've  changed  their  break- 
fast time,  and  to-morrow  they'll  come  a  good  bit 
earlier.  And  yet  some  people  say  hens  have  no 
sense. '  * 


L  few  on 
re  they  ? 


u. 


-It 


is  punc- 


! 


CHAPTER  XIX 


A    BAND   OF   MERCY 


FEW  evenings  alter  we  came  to  Dingley 
Farm,    Mrs.    Wood    and    Miss   Laura 
were  sitting  out  on  the  veranda,  and  I 
was  lying  at  their  feet. 

"Auntie,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "What  do  those 
letters  rrictiii  on  that  silver  pin  that  you  wear  with 
that  piece  of  ribbon  ?  ' ' 

"You  know  what  the  white  ribbon  means, 
don't  you  ? "  asked  Mrs.  Wood. 

"Yes;  that  you  are  a  temperance  woman, 
doesn't  it?" 

• '  It  does  ;  and  the  star  pin  means  that  I  am 
a  member  of  a  Band  of  Mercy.  Do  you  know 
what  a  Band  of  Mercy  is  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Miss  Laura. 

"How  strange!  I  should  think  that  you 
would  have  several  in  Fairport.  A  cripple  boy, 
the  son  of  a  Boston  artist,  started  this  one  here. 
It  has  done  a  great  deal  of  good.  There  is  a 
meeting  to-morrow,  and  I  will  take  you  to  it  if  you 
like." 

It  was  on  Monday  that  Mrs.  Wood  had  this 

i66 


A   BAND   OF  MERCY 


167 


)ingley 
Laura 
and  I 

3  those 
ar  with 

neans, 

Oman, 

:  I  am 

know 


X  you 
t  boy, 

here, 
e  is  a 

if  you 

id  this 


\t 


talk  with  Miss  Laura,  and  the  next  afternoon, 
after  all  the  work  was  done,  they  got  ready  to  go 
to  the  village. 

•*  May  Joe  go  ?  "  asked  Miss  Laura. 

"Certainly,"  said  Mrs.  Wood  ;  "  he  is  such  a 
good  dog  that  he  won't  be  any  trouble." 

I  was  very  glad  to  hear  this,  and  trotted  along 
by  them  down  the  lane  to  the  road.  The  lane 
was  a  very  cool  and  pleasant  place.  There  were 
tall  trees  growing  on  each  side,  and  under  them, 
among  the  grass,  pretty  wild  flowers  were  peeping 
out  to  look  at  us  as  we  went  by. 

Mrs.  Wood  and  Miss  Laura  talked  all  the  way 
about  the  Band  of  Mercy.  Miss  Laura  was  much 
interested,  and  said  that  she  would  like  to  start 
one  in  Fairport. 

"  It  is  a  very  simple  thing,"  said  Mrs.  Wood. 
"All  you  have  to  do  is  to  write  the  pledge  at  the 
top  of  a  piece  of  paper  :  '  I  will  try  to  be  kind  to 
all  harmless  hving  creatures,  and  try  to  protect 
them  from  cruel  usage,'  and  get  thirty  people  to 
sign  it.     That  makes  a  band. 

"  I  have  formed  two  or  three  bands  by  keeping 
slips  of  paper  ready,  and  getting  people  that  come 
to  visit  me  to  sign  them.  I  call  them  '  Corres- 
ponding Bands,'  for  they  are  too  far  apart  to  meet. 
I  send  the  members  'Band  of  Mercy'  papers, 
and  I  get  such  nice  letters  from  them,  telling  me 
of  kind  things  they  do  for  animals. 

"A  Band  of  Mercy  in  a  place  is  a  splendid 
thing.  There's  the  greatest  difference  in  River- 
dale  since  this  one  was  started.     A  few  years  ago. 


1 68 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


when  a  man  beat  or  raced  his  horse,  and  any  one 
interfered,  he  said  :  'This  horse  is  mine  ;  I'll  do 
what  I  like  with  him.'  Most  people  thought  he 
was  right,  but  now  they're  all  for  the  poor  horse, 
and  there  isn't  a  man  anywhere  around  who 
would  dare  to  abuse  any  animal. 

"It's  all  the  children.  They're  doing  a  grand 
work,  and  I  say  it's  a  good  thing  for  them.  Since 
we've  studied  this  subject,  it's  enough  to  frighten 
one  to  read  what  is  sent  us  about  our  American 
boys  and  girls.  Do  you  know,  Laura,  that  with 
all  our  brag  about  our  schools  and  colleges,  that 
really  are  wonderful,  we're  turning  out  more  crimi- 
nals than  any  other  civilized  country  in  the  world, 
except  Spain  and  Italy  ?  The  cause  of  it  is  said  to 
be  lack  of  proper  training  for  the  youth  of  our  land. 
Immigration  has  something  to  do  with  it,  too. 
We're  thinking  too  much  about  educating  the 
mind,  and  forgetting  about  the  heart  and  soul.  So 
I  say  now,  while  we've  got  all  our  future  popula- 
tion in  our  schools,  saints  and  sinners,  good  people 
and  bad  people,  let  us  try  to  slip  in  something  be- 
tween the  geography,  and  history,  and  grammar 
that  will  go  a  little  deeper,  and  touch  them  so  much, 
that  when  they  are  grown  up  and  go  out  in  the 
world,  they  will  carry  with  them  lessons  of  love 
and  good-will  to  men. 

••A  little  child  is  such  a  tender  thing.  You 
can  bend  it  anyway  you  like.  Speaking  of  this 
heart  education  of  children,  as  set  over  against 
mind  education,  I  see  that  many  school-teachers 
say  that  there  is  nothing  better  than  to  give  them 


A    BAND   OF   MERCY 


169 


lessoi)s  on  kindness  to  animals.  Children  who 
are  taught  to  love  and  protect  dumb  creatures 
will  be  kind  to  their  fellow-men  when  they 
grow  up.". 

I  was  very  much  pleased  with  this  talk  between 
Mrs.  Wood  and  Miss  Laura,  and  kept  close  to  them 
so  that  I  would  not  miss  a  word. 

As  we  went  along,  houses  began  to  appear  here 
and  there,  set  back  from  the  road  among  the  trees. 
Soon  they  got  quite  close  together,  and  I  saw  some 
shops. 
I  This  was  the  village  of  Riverdale,  and  nearly 

all  the  buildings  were  along  this  winding  street. 
The  river  was  away  back  of  the  village.  We  had 
already  driven  there  several  times. 

We  passed  the  school  on  our  way.  It  was  a 
square,  white  building,  standing  in  the  middle  of 
a  large  yard.  Boys  and  girls,  with  their  arms  full 
of  books,  were  hurrying  down  the  steps  and  com- 
ing into  the  street.  Two  quite  big  boys  came 
behind  us,  and  Mrs.  Wood  turned  around  and 
spoke  to  them,  and  asked  if  they  were  going  to 
the  Band  of  Mercy. 

"Oh,  yes;  ma'am,"  said  the  younger  one. 
"I've  got  a  recitation,  don't  you  remember  ? " 

"Yes,  yes;  excuse  me  for  forgetting,"  said 
Mrs.  Wood,  with  her  jolly  laugh.  "And  here  are 
Dolly,  and  Jennie,  and  Martha,"  she  went  on,  as 
some  Httle  girls  came  running  out  of  a  house  that 
we  were  passing. 

The  little  girls  joined  us  and  looked  so  hard  at 
my  head  and  stump  of  a  tail,  and  my  fine  collar, 


170 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


that  I  felt  quite  shy,  and  waF  .d  with  my  head 
against  Miss  Laura's  dress. 

She  stooped  down  and  patted  ::i^.  i-  !  then  I 
felt  as  if  I  didn't  care  how  much  they  stared.  Miss 
Laura  never  forgot  me.  No  matter  how  earnestly 
she  was  talking,  or  playing  a  game,  or  doing  any- 
thing, she  always  stopped  occasionally  to  give  me 
a  word  or  look,  to  show  that  she  knew  I  was  near. 

Mrs.  Wood  paused  in  front  of  a  building  on  the 
main  street.  A  great  many  boys  and  girls  were 
going  in,  and  we  went  with  them.  We  found  our- 
selyes  in  a  large  room,  with  a  platform  at  one  end 
of  it.  There  were  some  chairs  on  this  platform 
and  a  small  table. 

A  boy  stood  by  this  table  with  his  hand  on  a 
bell.  Presently  he  rang  it,  and  then  every  one 
kept  still.  Mrs.  Wood  whispered  to  Miss  Laura 
that  this  boy  was  the  president  of  the  band,  and 
the  young  man  with  the  pale  face  and  curly  hair 
who  sat  in  front  of  him  was  Mr.  Maxwell,  the 
artist's  son,  who  had  formed  this  Band  of  Mercy. 

The  lad  who  presided  had  a  ringing,  pleasant 
voice.  He  said  they  would  begin  their  meeting  by 
singing  a  hymn.  There  was  an  organ  near  the 
platform,  and  a  young  girl  played  on  it,  while  all 
the  other  boys  and  girls  stood  up,  and  sang  very 
sweetly  and  clearly. 

After  they  had  sung  the  hymn,  the  president 
asked  for  the  report  of  their  last  meeting. 

A  little  girl,  blushing  and  hanging  her  head, 
came  forward,  and  read  what  was  written  on  a 
paper  that  she  held  in  her  hand. 


A    BAND   OF    MERCY 


171 


head 


The  president  made  some  remarks  after  she 
had  finished,  and  then  every  one  had  to  vote.  It 
was  just  Hke  a  meeting  of  grown  people,  and  I 
was  surprised  to  see  how  good  those  children  were. 
They  did  not  frolic  nor  laugh,  but  all  seemed  sober 
and  listened  attentively. 

After  the  voting  was  over,  the  president  called 
upon  John  Turner  to  give  a  recitation.  This  was 
the  boy  whom  we  saw  on  the  way  there.  He 
walked  up  to  the  platform,  made  a  bow,  and  said 
that  he  had  learned  two  stories  for  his  recitation, 
out  of  the  paper,  "  Dumb  Animals."  One  story 
was  about  a  horse,  and  the  other  was  about  a  doe 
and  he  thought  that  they  were  two  of  the  best 
animal  stories  on  record.  He  would  tell  the  horse 
story  first. 

' '  A  man  in  Missouri  had  to  go  to  Nebraska  to 
see  about  some  land.  He  went  on  horseback,  on 
a  horse  that  he  had  trained  himself,  and  that  came 
at  his  whistle  Hke  a  dog.  On  getting  into  Nebraska, 
he  came  to  a  place  where  there  were  two  roads. 
One  went  by  a  river,  and  the  other  went  over  the 
hill.  The  man  saw  that  the  travel  went  over  the 
hill,  but  thought  he'd  take  the  river  road.  He 
didn't  know  that  there  was  a  quicksand  across  it, 
and  that  people  couldn't  use  it  in  spring  and  sum- 
mer. There  used  to  be  a  sign  board  to  tell  stran- 
gers about  it,  but  it  had  been  taken  away.  The 
man  got  off  his  horse  to  let  him  graze,  and  walked 
along  till  he  got  so  far  ahead  of  the  horse  that  he 
had  to  sit  down  and  wait  for  him.  Suddenly  he  , 
found  that  he  was  on  a  quicksand.     His  feet  had 


172 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


sunk  in  the  sand,  and  he  could  not  get  them  out. 
He  threw  himself  down,  and  whistled  for  his  horse, 
and  shouted  for  help,  but  no  one  came.  He  could 
hear  some  young  people  singing  out  on  the  river, 
but  they  could  not  hear  him.  The  terrible  sand 
drew  him  in  almost  to  his  shoulders,  and  he  thought 
he  was  lost.  At  that  moment  the  horse  came  run- 
ning up,  and  stood  by  his  master.  The  man  was 
too  low  down  to  get  hold  of  the  saddle  or  bridle, 
so  he  took  hold  of  the  horse's  tail,  and  told  him 
to  go.  The  horse  gave  an  awful  pull,  and  landed 
his  piaster  on  safe  ground. ' ' 

Everybody  clapped  his  hands,  and  stamped 
when  this  story  was  finished,  and  called  out :  ' '  The 
dog  story — the  dog  story  ! ' ' 

The  boy  bowed  and  smiled,  and  began  again. 
"You  all  know  what  a  '  round-up  '  of  cattle  is,  so 
I  need  not  explain.  Once  a  man  down  south  was 
going  to  have  one,  and  he  and  his  boys  and 
friends  were  talking  it  over.  There  was  an  ugly, 
black  steer  in  the  herd,  and  they  were  wondering 
whether  their  old  yellow  dog  would  be  able  to 
manage  him.  The  dog's  name  was  Tige,  and  he 
lay  and  listened  wisely  to  their  talk.  The  next 
day  there  was  a  scene  of  great  confusion.  The 
steer  raged  and  tore  about,  and  would  allow  no 
one  to  come  within  whip  touch  of  him.  Tige,  who 
had  always  been  brave,  skulked  about  for  a  while, 
and  then,  as  if  he  had  got  up  a  little  spirit,  he 
made  a  run  at  the  steer.  The  steer  sighted  him, 
gave  a  bellow,  and,  lowering  his  horns,  ran  at  him. 
Tige  turned  tail,  and  the  young  men  that  owned 


A   BAND   OF   MERCY 


'73 


him  were  frantic.  They'd  been  praising  him,  and 
thought  they  were  going  to  have  it  proven  false. 
Their  father  called  out :  '  Don't  shoot  Tige,  till 
you  see  where  he's  running  to.'  The  dog  ran 
right  to  the  cattle  pen.  The  steer  was  so  enraged 
that  he  never  noticed  where  he  was  going,  and 
dashed  in  after  him.  Tige  leaped  the  wall,  and 
came  back  to  the  gate,  barking  and  yelping  for 
the  men  to  come  and  shut  the  steer  in.  Thev 
shut  the  gate  and  petted  Tige,  and  bought  him  a 
collar  with  a  silver  plate. ' ' 

The  boy  was  loudly  cheered,  and  went  to  his 
seat.  The  president  said  he  would  like  to  have 
remarks  made  about  these  two  stories. 

Several  children  put  up  their  hands,  and  he 
asked  each  one  to  speak  in  turn.  One  said  that  if 
that  man's  horse  had  had  a  docked  tail,  his  master 
wouldn't  have  been  able  to  reach  it,  and  would 
have  perished.  Another  said  that  if  the  man 
hadn't  treated  his  horse  kindly,  he  never  would 
have  come  at  his  whistle,  and  stood  over  him  to 
see  what  he  could  do  to  help  him.  A  third  child 
said  that  the  people  on  the  river  weren't  as  quick 
at  hearing  the  voice  of  the  man  in  trouble  as  the 
horse  was. 

When  this  talk  was  over,  the  president  called 
for  some  stories  of  foreign  animals. 

Another  boy  came  forward,  made  his  bow,  and 
said,  in  a  short,  abrupt  voice,  "  My  uncle's  name 
is  Henry  Worthington.  He  is  an  Englishman, 
and  once  he  was  a  soldier  in  India.  One  day  when 
he  was  hunting  in  the  Punjab,  he  saw  a  mother 


II 


I 


174 


BEAUTIFUL  jOE 


monkey  carrying  a  little  dead  baby  monkey.  Six 
months  after,  he  was  in  the  same  jungle.  Saw 
same  monkey  still  carrying  dead  baby  monkey, 
all  shriveled  up.  Mother  monkey  loved  her  baby 
monkey,  and  wouldn't  give  it  up." 

The  boy  went  to  his  seat,  and  the  president, 
with  a  queer  look  in  his  face,  said,  ' '  That' s  a  very 
go(  d  story,  Ronald — if  it  is  true." 

None  of  the  children  laughed,  but  Mrs.  Wood's 
face  got  Hke  a  red  poppy,  and  Miss  Laura  bit  her 
lip,  and  Mr.  Maxwell  buried  his  head  in  his  arms, 
his  whole  frame  shaking. 

The  boy  who  told  the  story  looked  very  angry. 
He  jumped  up  again.  "  My  uncle's  a  true  man, 
Phil.  Dodge,  and  never  told  a  lie  in  his  life." 

The  president  remained  standing,  his  face  a 
deep  scarlet,  and  a  tall  boy  at  the  back  of  the 
room  got  up  .^nd  said,  ' '  Mr.  President,  what 
would  be  impossible  in  this  climate,  might  be  pos- 
sible in  a  hot  country  like  India.  Doesn't  heat 
sometimes  draw  up  and  preserve  things  ? ' ' 

The  president' s  face  cleared.  ' '  Thank  you 
for  the  suggestion, "  he  said.  "I  don't  want  to 
hurt  anybody's  feelings  ;  but  you  know  there  is  a 
rule  in  the  band  that  only  true  stories  are  to  be 
told  here.  We  have  five  mor ..  minutes  for  foreign 
stories.     Has  any  one  else  one  ? "  , 


CHAPTER  XX 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


SMALL  girl,  with  twinkling  eyes  and  a 
merry  face,  got  up,  just  b  hind  Miss 
Laura,  and  made  her  way  to  the  front. 
"My  dranfadder  says,"   she  began,  in  a  piping 
little  voice,    "  dat  when  he  was  a  httle  boy  his 
fadder  brought  him  a  little  monkey  from  de  West 
Indies.     De  naughty  boys  in  de   village  used  to 
tease  de  Httle  monkey,  and  he  runned  up  a  tree 
one  day.     Dey  was  drowing  stones  at  him,  and  a 
man  dat  was  paintin'  de  house  druv  'em  away. 
De  monkey  runned  down  de  tree,  and  shook  hands 
wid  de  man.     My  dranfadder  saw  him, ' '  she  said, 
with  a  shake  of  her  head  at  the  president,  as  if  she 
was  afraid  he  would  doubt  her. 

There  was  great  laughing  and  clapping  of  hands 
when  this  little  girl  took  her  seat,  and  she  hopped 
right  up  again  and  ran  back.  "Oh,  I  fordot," 
she  went  on,  in  her  squeaky,  little  voice,  ' '  dat  my 
dranfadder  says  dat  afterward  de  monkey  upset  de 
painter's  can  of  oil,  and  rolled  in  it,  and  den 
jumped  down  in  my  dranfadder' s  flour  barrel." 
The  president  looked  very  much  amused,  and 

*7S 


,a 


176 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


said,  "We  have  had  some  good  stories  about 
monkeys,  now  let  us  have  some  more  about  our 
home  animals.  Who  can  tell  us  another  story 
about  a  horse  ? ' ' 

Three  or  four  boys  jumped  up,  but  the  president 
said  they  would  take  one  at  a  time.  The  first  one 
was  this  :  A  Riverdale  boy  was  walking  along  the 
bank  of  a  canal  in  Hoytville.  He  saw  a  boy  driv- 
ing two  horses,  which  were  towing  a  canal -boat. 
The  first  horse  was  lazy,  and  the  boy  got  angry 
and  struck  him  several  times  over  the  head  with 
hjs  whip.  The  Riverdale  boy  shouted  across  to 
him,  begging  him  not  to  be  so  cruel ;  but  the  boy 
paid  no  attention.  Suddenly  the  horse  turned, 
seized  his  tormentor  by  the  shoulder,  and  pushed 
him  into  the  canal.  The  water  was  not  deep,  and 
the  boy,  after  floundering  about  for  a  few  seconds, 
came  out  dripping  with  mud  and  filth,  and  sat 
down  on  the  tow  path,  and  looked  at  the  horse 
with  such  a  comical  expression,  that  the  Riverdale 
boy  had  to  stuff  his  handkerchief  in  his  mouth  to 
keep  from  laughing. 

"It  is  to  be  hoped  that  he  would  learn  a  les- 
son," said  the  president,  "and  be  kinder  to  his 
horse  in  the  future.  Now,  Bernard  Howe,  your 
story. '  * 

The  boy  was  a  brother  to  the  litde  girl  who  had 
told  the  monkey  story,  and  he,  too,  had  evidently 
been  talking  to  his  grandfather.  He  told  two 
stones,  and  Miss  Laura  listened  eagerly,  for  they 
were  about  Fairport. 

The  boy  said  that  when  his  grandfather  was 


s  about 
)out  our 
sr  story- 
resident 
first  one 
long  the 
oy  driv- 
lal-boat. 
•t  angry 
iad  with 
cross  to 
the  boy 
turned, 
.  pushed 
;ep,  and 
seconds, 
and  sat 
le  horse 
iverdale 
nouth  to 

n  a  les- 
r  to  his 
ve,  your 

ivho  had 
vidently 
old  two 
for  they 

her  was 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


177 


young,  he  lived  in  Fairport,  Maine.     On  a  certain 
day  he  stood  in  the  market  square  to  see  their  first 
stage-coach  put  together.     It  had  come  from  Bos- 
ton in  pieces,  for  there  was  no  one  in  Fairport  that 
could  make  one.     The  coach  went  away  up  into 
the  country  one  day,  and  came  back  the  Dext. 
For  a  long  time  no     ne  understood  driving  the 
horses  properly,  and  they  came  in  day  after  day 
with  the  blood  streaming  from  them.     The  whiffle- 
tree  would  swing  round  and  hit  them,  and  when 
their  collars  were  taken  off,  their  necks  would  be 
raw  and  bloody.     After  a  time,  the  men  got  to  un- 
derstand how  to  drive  a  coach,  and  the  horses  did 
not  suffer  so  much. 

The  other  story  was  about  a  team-boat,  not  a 
steamboat.     More  than  seventy  years  ago,  they 
had  no  steamers  running  between  Fairport  and  the 
island  opposite  where  people  went  for  the  summer, 
but  they  had  what  they  called  a  team-boat,  that  is, 
a  boat  with  machinery  to  make  it  go,  that  could  be 
worked  by  horses.     There  were  eight  horses  that 
went  around  and  around,  and  made  the  boat  go. 
One  afternoon,  two  dancing  masters,  who  were 
wicked  fellows,  that  played  the  fiddle,  and  never 
went  to  church  on  Sundays,  got  on  the  boat,  and 
sat  just  where  the  horses  had  to  pass  them  as  they 
went  around. 

Every  time  tiie  horses  went  by,  they  jabbed 
them  with  their  penknives.  The  man  who  was 
driviner  the  horses  iit  lact  caw  fV.o  ki^«^  a^: — :„_ 

from  them,  and  the  dancing  masters  were  found 
out.     Some  young  men  on  the  boat  were  so  angry 


178 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Wi 


i't 


1  n 


that  they  caught  up  a  rope's  end,  and  gave  the 
dancing  masters  a  lashing,  and  then  threw  them 
into  the  water  and  made  them  swim  to  the  island. 
When  this  boy  took  a  seat,  a  young  girl  read 
some  verses  that  she  had  clipped  from  a  news- 
paper : 

«  Don't  kill  the  toads,  the  ugly  toads, 
That  hop  around  your  door  ; 
Each  meal  the  little  toad  doth  eat 
A  hundred  bugs  or  more. 

'<  He  sits  around  with  aspect  meek, 
'  Until  the  bug  bath  neared. 

Then  shoots  he  forth  his  little  tongue 
Like  lightning  double-geared. 

*'  And  then  he  soberly  doth  wink, 
And  shut  his  ugly  mug, 
And  patiently  doth  wait  until 
There  comes  another  bug." 

Mr.  Maxwell  told  a  good  dog  story  after  this. 
He  siiid  the  president  need  not  have  any  fears  as 
to  its  truth,  for  it  had  happened  in  his  boarding 
house  in  the  village,  and  he  had  seen  it  himself. 
Monday,  the  day  before,  being  wash-day,  his  land- 
lady had  put  out  a  large  washing.     Among  the 
clothes  on  the  line  was  a  gray  flannel  shirt  belong- 
ing to  her  husband.     The  young  dog  belonging  to 
the  house  had  pulled  the  shirt  from  the  hne   and 
torn  it  to  pieces.    The  woman  put  it  aside  and  told 
him  master  would  beat  him.     When  the  man  came 
home  to  his  dinner,  he  showed  the  dog  the  pieces 
of  the  shirt,  and  gave  him  a  severe  whipping. 
The  dog  ran  away,  visited  all  the  clothes  Unes  in 


#' 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


179 


the  village,  till  he  found  a  gray  shirt  very  like  his 
master's.  He  seized  it  and  ran  home,  laying  it  at 
his  masterV  feet,  joyfully  wagging  his  tail  mean- 
while. 

Mr.  Maxwell's  story  done,  a  bright-faced  boy, 
called  Simon  Grey,  got  up  and  said:  "You  all 
know  our  old  gray  horse  Ned.     Last  week  father 
sold  him  to  a  man  in  Hoytville,  and  I  went  to  the 
station  when  he  was  shipped.     He  was  put  in  a 
box  car.     The  doors  were  left  a  httle  open  to  ^ive 
him  air,  and  were  locked  in  that  way.     There  was 
a  narrow,  sliding  door,  four  feet  from  the  floor  of 
the  car,  and,  in  some  way  or  other,  old  Ned  pushed 
this  door  open,  crawled  through  it,  and  tumbled  out 
on  the  ground.     When  I  was  coming  from  school. 
I  saw  him  walking  along  the  track.     He  hadn't 
hurt  himself,  except  for  a  few  cuts.     He  was  glad 
to  see  me,  and  followed  me  home.     He  must  have 
gotten  off  the  train  when  it  was  going  full  speed, 
for  he  hadn't  been  seen  at  any  of  the  stations,  and 
the  trainmen  were  astonished  to  find  the  doors 
locked  and  the  car  empty,  when  they  got  to  Hoyt- 
ville.    Father  got  the  man  who  bought  him  lo 
release  him  from  his  bargain,  for  he  says  if  NeA 
is  so  fond  of  Riverdale,  he  shall  stay  here." 

The  president  asked  the  boys  and  <?irls  to  give 
three  cheers  for  old  Ned,  and  then  they  had  some 
more  singing.  After  all  had  taken  tlieir  seats,  he 
said  he  would  like  to  know  what  the  members 
had  been  doing  for  animals  during  the  past  fort- 
night. 

One  girl  had  kept  her  brother  from  shooting 


P 

ail 

Hi 


i8o 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


two  owls  that  came  about  their  barnyard.  She 
told  him  that  the  owls  would  destroy  the  rats  and 
mice  that  bothered  him  in  the  barn,  but  if  he 
hunted  them,  they  would  go  to  the  woods. 

A  boy  said  that  he  had  persuaded  some  of  his 
friends  who  were  going  fishing,  to  put  their  bait 
worms  into  a  dish  of  boiling  water  to  kill  them 
before  they  started,  and  also  to  promise  him  that 
as  soon  as  they  took  their  fish  out  of  the  water, 
they  would  kill  them  by  a  sharp  blow  on  the  back 
of  the  head.  They  were  all  the  more  ready  to  do 
tliis,  when  he  told  them  that  their  fish  would  taste 
better  when  cooked,  if  they  had  been  killed  as 
soon  as  they  were  taken  from  the  water  into  the 
air. 

A  little  girl  had  gotten  her  mother  to  say  that 
she  would  never  again  put  lobsters  into  cold  water 
and  slowly  boil  them  to  death.  She  had  also 
stopped  a  man  in  the  street  who  was  carrying  a 
pair  of  fowls  with  their  heads  down,  and  asked 
him  if  he  would  kindly  reverse  their  position. 
The  man  told  her  that  the  fowls  didn't  mind,  and 
she  pursed  up  her  small  mouth  and  showed  the 
band  how  she  said  to  him,  "I  would  prefer  the 
opinion  of  the  hens."  Then  she  said  he  had 
laughed  at  her,  and  said,  "  Certainly,  little  lady," 
and  had  gone  off  carrying  them  as  she  wanted 
him  to.  She  had  also  reasoned  with  different 
boys  outside  the  village  who  were  throwing  stones 
at  birds  and  frogs,  and  sticking  butterflies,  and 
had  invited  them  to  come  to  the  Band  of  Mercy. 

This  child  seemed  to  have  done  more  than  any 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


i8i 


one  else  for  dumb  animals.  She  had  taken 
around  a  petition  to  the  village  boys,  asking 
them  not  to  search  for  birds'  eggs,  and  she  had 
even  gone  into  her  father's  stable,  and  asked  him 
to  hold  her  up,  so  that  she  could  look  into  the 
horses'  mouths  to  see  if  their  teeth  wanted  filing  or 
were  decayed.  When  her  father  laughed  at  her, 
she  told  him  that  horses  often  suffer  terrible  pain 
from  their  teeth,  and  that  sometimes  a  runaway  is 
caused  by  a  metal  bit  striking  against  the  exposed 
nerve  in  the  tooth  of  a  horse  that  has  become 
almost  frantic  with  pain. 

She  was  a  very  gentle  girl,  and  I  think  by  the 
way  that  she  spoke  that  her  father  loved  her 
dearly,  for  she  told  how  much  trouble  he  had 
taken  to  make  some  tiny  houses  for  her  that  she 
wanted  for  the  wrens  that  came  about  their  farm. 
She  told  him  that  those  little  birds  are  so  good  at 
catching  insects  that  they  ought  to  give  all  their 
time  to  it,  and  not  have  any  worry  about  making 
houses.  Her  father  made  their  hemes  very  small, 
so  that  the  English  sparrows  could  not  get  in  and 
crowd  them  out. 

A  boy  said  that  he  had  gotten  a  pot  of  paint, 
and  painted  in  large  letters  on  the  fences  around 
his  father's  farm:  "Spare  the  toads,  don't  kill 
the  birds.  Every  bird  killed  is  a  loss  to  the 
country. ' ' 

" That  reminds  me, "  said  the  president,  "to 
ask  the  girls  what  they  have  done  about  the  mil- 
linery business." 

"  I  have  told  my  mother,"  said  a  tall,  serious- 


A 


■  I   '' 


I 


182 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


faced  girl,  ' '  that  I  think  it  is  wrong  to  wear  bird 
feathers,  and  she  has  promised  to  give  up  wearing 
any  of  them  except  ostrich  plumes. 

Mrs.  Wood  asked  permission  to  say  a  few  words 
just  here,  and  the  president  said  :  '•  Certainly,  we 
are  always  glad  to  hear  from  you." 

She  went  up  on  the  platform,  and  faced  the 
roomful  of  children.  ' '  Dear  boys  and  girls, ' '  she 
began,  "I  have  had  some  papers  sent  me  from 
Boston,  giving  some  facts  about  the  killing  of  our 
birds,  and  I  want  to  state  a  few  of  them  to  you  : 
You  all  know  that  nearly  every  tree  and  plant  that 
grows  swarms  with  insect  life,  and  that  they  couldn't 
grow  if  the  birds  didn't  eat  the  insects  that  would 
devour  their  foliage.  All  day  long,  the  little  beaks 
of  the  birds  are  busy.  The  dear  little  rose-breasted 
gross-beak  carefully  examines  the  potato  plants, 
and  picks  off  the  beetles,  the  martins  destroy 
weevil,  the  quail  and  grouse  family  eats  the  chinch- 
bug,  the  woodpeckers  dig  the  worms  from  the 
trees,  and  many  other  birds  eat  the  flies  and  gnats 
and  mosquitoes  that  torment  us  so.  No  flying  or 
crawling  creature  escapes  their  sharp  little  eyes. 
A  great  Frenchman  says  that  if  it  weren't  for  the 
birds  human  beings  would  perish  from  the  face  of 
the  earth.  They  are  doing  all  this  for  us,  and  how 
are  we  rewarding  them  ?  All  over  America  they 
are  hunted  and  killed.  Five  million  birds  mus-!; 
be  caught  every  year  for  American  women  to  weu» 


m 


f"hp»ir  Tial-c  artr\   T->r»nnf»fc 


XAX\^^t        A»V.fV^J      .* 


Tust  think  of  itj  o^irls. 


Isn't  it  dreadful  ?     Five  million  innocent,  hard- 
working, beautiful  birds   killed,  that  thoughtless 


A 

ir  bird 
rearing 

/  words 
ily,  we 

:ed  the 

s,"  she 

le  from 

of  our 

to  you  ; 

mt  that 

ouldn't 

t  would 

e  beaks 

ireasted 

plants, 

destroy 

chinch- 

om  the 

d  gnats 

lying  or 

le  eyes. 

for  the 

face  of 

md  how 

ica  they 

is  ttius^ 

to  wevx* 

it    P"ir1s. 
._.  -J 

t,  hard" 
ughtlesa 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


183 


girls  and  women  may  ornament  themselves  with 
their  little  dead  bodies..  One  million  bobolinks 
have  been  killed  in  one  month  near  Philadelphia. 
Seventy  song-birds  were  sent  from  one  Long  Island 
village  to  New  York  milliners. 

"  In  Florida,  cruel  men  shoot  the  mother  birds 
on  their  nests  while  they  are  rearing  their  young, 
because  their  plumage  is  prettiest  at  that  time. 
The  little  ones  cry  pitifully,  and  starve  to  death. 
Every  bird  of  the  rarer  kinds  that  is  killed,  such 
as  humming  birds,  orioles  and  kingfishers,  means 
the  death  of  several  others — that  is,  the  young 
that  starve  to  death,  the  wounded  that  fly  away  to 
die,  and  those  whose  plumage  is  so  torn  that  it  is 
not  fit  to  put  in  a  fine  lady's  bonnet.  In  some 
cases  where  birds  have  gay  wings,  and  the  hunters 
do  not  wish  the  rest  of  the  body,  they  tear  off  the 
wings  from  the  living  bird,  and  throw  it  away  to 
die. 

' '  I  am  sorry  to  tell  you  such  painful  things, 
but  I  think  you  ought  to  know  them.  You  will 
soon  be  men  and  women.  Do  what  you  can  to 
stop  this  horrid  trade.  Our  beautiful  birds  are 
being  taken  from  us,  and  the  insect  pests  are  in- 
creasing. The  State  of  I.Iassachusetts  has  lost 
over  one  hundred  thousand  dollars  because  it  did 
not  protect  its  birds.  The  gypsy  moth  stripped  the 
trees  near  Boston,  and  the  State  had  to  pay  out  all 
this  money,  and  even  then  could  not  get  rid  of  the 
moths.  The  birds  could  have  done  it  better  than 
the  State,  but  they  were  all  gone.  My  last  words 
to  you  arer  *  Protect  the  bit  Is. '  '  * 


1 84 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Mrs.  Wood  went  to  her  seat,  and  though  the 
boys  and  girls  had  listened  very  attentively,  none 
of  them  cheered  her.  Their  faces  looked  sad,  and 
they  kept  very  quiet  for  a  few  minutes.  I  saw  one 
or  two  little  girls  wiping  their  eyes.  I  think  they 
felt  sorry  for  the  birds. 

"  Has  any  boy  done  anything  about  blinders 
and  check-reins  ? ' '  asked  the  president,  after  a 
time. 

A  brown-faced  boy  stood  up.  "I  had  a  picnic 
last  Monday,"  he  said  ;  "  father  let  me  cut  all  the 
blinders  off  our  head-stalls  with  my  penknife." 

••  How  did  you  get  him  to  consent  to  that?" 
asked  the  president. 

••I  told  him,"  said  the  boy,  "that  I  couldn't 
get  to  sleep  for  thinking  of  him.  You  know  he 
drives  a  good  deal  late  at  night.  I  told  him  that 
every  dark  night  he  came  from  Sudbury  I  thought 
of  the  deep  ditch  alongside  the  road,  and  wished 
his  horses  hadn'  t  blinders  on.  And  every  night  he 
comes  from  the  Junction,  and  has  to  drive  along 
the  river  bank  where  the  water  has  washed  away 
the  earth  till  the  wheels  of  the  wagon  are  within  a 
foot  or  two  of  the  edge,  I  wished  again  that  his 
horses  could  see  each  side  of  them,  for  I  knew 
they'  d  have  sense  enough  to  keep  out  of  danger 
if  they  could  see  it.  Father  said  that  might  be 
very  true,  and  yet  his  horses  had  been  broken  in 
with  blinders,  and  didn't  I  think  they  would  be 
inclined  to  shy  if  he  took  them  off;  and  wouldn't 
iney  oe  ingnieneu  U)  iuuk.  aiuunu  tuxui  occ  mv 
wagon  wheels  so  near.     I  told  him  that  for  every 


I 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


185 


accident  that  happened  to  a  horse  without  bUnders, 
several  happened  to  a  horse  with  them  ;  and  then 
I  gave  him  Mr.  Wood's  opinion — Mr.  Wood  out 
at  Dingley  Farm.  He  says  that  the  worst  thing 
against  blinders  is  that  a  frightened  horse  never 
knows  when  he  has  passed  the  thing  that  scared 
him.  He  always  thinks  it  is  behind  him.  The 
blinders  are  there  and  he  can't  see  that  he  has 
passed  it,  and  he  can't  turn  his  head  to  have  a 
good  look  at  it.  So  often  he  goes  tearing  madly 
on  ;  and  sometimes  lives  are  lost  all  on  account  of 
a  little  bit  of  leather  fastened  over  a  beautiful  eye 
that  ought  to  look  out  full  and  free  at  the  world. 
That  finished  father.  He  said  he'd  take  off  his 
blinders,  and  if  he  had  an  accident,  he'd  send  the 
bill  for  damages  to  Mr.  Wood.  But  we've  had  no 
accident.  The  horses  did  act  rather  queerly  at  first, 
and  started  a  little  ;  but  they  soon  got  over  it,  and 
now  they  go  as  steady  without  blinders  as  they 
ever  did  with  them." 

The  boy  sat  down,  and  the  president  said  :  "I 
think  it  is  time  that  the  whole  nation  threw  off  this 
foolishness  of  half  covering  their  horses'  eyes. 
Just  put  your  hands  up  to  your  eyes,  members  of 
the  band.  Half  cover  them,  and  see  how  shut  in 
you  will  feel ;  and  how  curious  you  v/ill  be  to  know 
what  is  going  on  beside  you.  Suppose  a  girl  saw 
a  mouse  with  her  eyes  half  covered,  wouldn't  she 
run?" 

Everybody  laughed,  and  the  president  asked 
some  one  to  ted  him  who  inventcu  uiinuers. 

•  'An  English  nobleman, ' '  shouted  a  boy,  ' '  who 


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14    IIIII.6 


Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14580 

(716)  872-4503 


I 


186 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


had  a  wall-eyed  horse  !  He  wanted  to  cover  up 
the  defect,  and  I  think  it  is  a  great  shame  that  all 
the  American  horses  have  to  suffer  because  that 
English  one  had  an  ugly  eye. ' ' 

"  So  do  I, "  said  the  president.  '  •  Three  groans 
for  blinders,  boys." 

All  the  children  in  the  room  made  three  dread- 
ful noises  away  down  in  their  throats.  Then  they 
had  another  good  laugh,  and  the  president  became 
sober  again.  "Seven  more  minutes,"  he  said; 
"this  meeting  has  got  to  be  let  out  at  five  sharp." 

A  tall  girl  at  the  back  of  the  room  rose,  and 
sairf:  "My  little  cousin  has  two  stories  that  she 
would  like  to  tell  the  band." 

"Very  well,"  said  the  president;  "bring  her 
right  along. ' ' 

The  big  girl  came  forward,  leading  a  tiny  child 
that  she  placed  in  front  of  the  boys  and  girls.  The 
child  stared  up  into  her  cousin's  face,  turning  and 
twisting  her  white  pianafore  through  her  fingers. 
Every  time  the  big  girl  took  her  pinafore  away  from 
her,  she  picked  it  up  again.  "  Begin,  Nannie," 
said  the  big  girl,  kindly. 

"Well,  Cousin  Eleanor,"  said  the  child, 
"you  know  Topsy,  Graham's  pony.  Well, 
Topsy  would  run  away,  and  a  big,  big  man 
came  out  to  papa  and  said  he  would  train  Topsy. 
So  he  drove  her  every  day,  and  beat  her,  and 
beat  her,  till  he  was  tired,  but  still  Topsy  would 
run  away.  Then  papa  sai:d  he  would  not  have 
lixw  Yf^jxjt.  px/iiy  vTiixppcu  su  iiiucii,  ana  ne  looK  iier 
out  a  piece  of  bread  every  day,  and  he  petted  her, 


STORIES   ABOUT   ANIMALS 


187 


and  now  Topsy  is  very  gentle,  and  never  runs 
away. ' ' 

•'  Tell  about  Tiger,"  said  the  girl. 

"Well,  Cousin  Eleanor,"  said  the  child, 
"you  know  Tiger,  our  big  dog.  "  He  used  to  be  a 
bad  dog,  and  when  Dr.  Fairchild  drove  up  to 
the  house  he  jumped  up  and  bit  at  him.  Dr. 
Fairchild  used  to  speak  kindly  to  him,  and  throw 
out  bits  of  meat,  and  now  when  he  comes,  Tiger 
follows  behind  and  wags  his  tail.  Now,  give  me 
a  kiss." 

The  girl  had  to  give  her  a  kiss,  right  up  there 
before  every  one,  and  what  a  stamping  the  boys 
made.  The  larger  girl  blushed  and  hurried  back 
to  her  seat,  with  the  child  clinging  to  her  hand. 

There  was  one  more  story,  about  a  brave  New- 
foundland dog,  that  saved  eight  lives  by  swim- 
ming out  to  a  wrecked  sailing  vessel,  and  getting 
a  rope  by  which  the  men  came  ashore,  and  then 
a  lad  got  up  whom  they  all  greeted  with  cheers, 
and  cries  of,  "The  Poet!  the  Poet!"  I  didn't 
know  what  they  meant,  till  Mrs.  Wood  whispered 
to  Miss  Laura  that  he  was  a  boy  who  made 
rhymes,  and  the  children  had  rather  hear  him 
speak  than  any  one  else  in  the  room. 

He  had  a  snub  nose  and  freckles,  and  I  think 
he  was  the  plainest  boy  there,  but  that  didn't 
matter,  if  the  other  children  loved  him.  He 
sauntered  up  to  the  front,  with  his  hands  behind 
his  back,  and  a  very  grand  manner. 

"The  beautiful  poetry  recited  here  to-day," 
he  drawled,  "  put  some  verses  in  my  mind  that  I 


i88 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


lay."     Everyone 
began  in  a  sing- 


never  had  till  I  came  here  t 
present  cheered  wildly,  and  1 
song  voice  : 

"  I  am  a  Band  of  Mercy  boy, 
I  would  not  hurt  a  fly, 
I  always  speak  to  dogs  and  cats, 
When'er  I  pass  them  by. 

"  I  always  ht  the  birdies  sing, 
I  never  throw  a  stone, 
I  always  give  a  hungry  dog 
A  nice,  fat,  meaty  bone. 

^        « I  wouldn't  drive  a  bob-tailed  horse, 
Nor  hurry  up  a  cow, 
I " 

Then  he  forgot  the  rest.  The  boys  and  girls 
were  so  sorry.  They  called  out,  '  •  Pig, "  "  Goat, ' ' 
"Calf."  "Sheep,"  "Hens,"  "Duck's."  and  all 
the  other  animals'  names  they  could  think  of,  but 
none  of  them  was  right,  and  as  the  boy  had' just 
made  up  the  poetry,  no  one  knew  what  the  next 
could  be.  He  stood  for  a  long  time  staring  at  the 
ceiling,  then  he  said,  "  I  guess  I'll  have  to  give  it 
up." 

The  children  looked  dreadfully  disappointed. 
'*  Perhaps  you  will  remember  it  by  our  next  meet- 
ing," said  the  president,  anxiously. 

"Possibly,  said  the  boy,  "but  probably  not. 
I  think  it  is  gone  forever."  And  he  went  to  his 
seat. 

^     Thft  next  thing  was  to  call  for  new  members. 
Miss  Laura  got  up  and  said  she  would  like  to  join 


4 


STORIES   ABOUT  ANIMALS 


189 


their  Band  of  Mercy.  I  followed  her  up  to  the 
platform,  while  they  pinned  a  little  badge  on  her, 
and  every  one  laughed  at  me.  Then  they  sang, 
*•  God  Bless  our  Native  Land,"  and  the  president 
told  us  that  we  might  all  go  home. 

It  seemed  to  me  a  lovely  thing  for  those  chil- 
dren to  meet  together  to  talk  about  kindness  to 
animals.  They  all  had  bright  and  good  faces, 
and  many  of  them  stopped  to  pat  me  as  I  came 
out.  One  little  girl  gave  me  a  biscuit  from  her 
school  bag. 

Mrs.  Wood  waited  at  the  door  till  Mr.  Max- 
well came  limping  out  on  his  crutches.  She  intro- 
duced him  to  Miss  Laura,  and  asked  him  if  he 
wouldn't  go  and  take  tea  with  them.  He  said  he 
would  be  very  happy  to  do  so,  and  then  Mrs. 
Wood  laughed  ;  and  asked  him  if  he  hadn't  better 
empty  his  pockets  first.  She  didn't  want  a  little 
toad  jumping  over  her  tep  ^ble,  as  one  did  the 
last  time  he  was  there. 


CHAPTER  XXI 


MR.    MAXWELL   AND    MR.    HARRY 


R.  MAXWELL  wore  a  coat  with  loose 
pockets,  and  while  she  was  speaking, 
he  rested  on  his  crutches,  and  began  to 
slap  them  with  his  hands.  "  No  ;  there's  nothing 
here  to-day, ' '  he  said  ;  "I  think  I  emptied  my 
pockets  before  I  went  to  the  meeting. ' ' 

Just  as  he  said  that  there  was  a  loud  squeal : 
"Oh,  my  guinea  pig,"  he  exclaimed;  "I forgot 
him,"  and  he  pulled  out  a  little  spotted  creature  a 
few  inches  long.  "  Poor  Derry,  did  I  hurt  you  ? " 
and  he  soothed  it  very  tenderly. 

I  stood  and  looked  at  Mr.  Maxwell,  for  I  had 

never  seen  any  one  like  him.     He  had  thick  curly 

hair  and  a  white  face,  and  he  looked  just  like  a 

girl.  While  I  was  staring  at  him,  something  peeped 

up  out  of  one  of  his  pockets  and  ran  out  its  tongue 

at  me  so  fast  that  I  could  scarcely  see  it,  and  then 

drew  back  again.     I  was  thunderstruck.     I  had 

never  seen  such  a  creature  before.     It  was  long 

and  thin  like  a  boy's  cane,  and  of  a  bright  green 

color  like  grass,  and  it  had  queer  shiny  eyes.     But 

its  tongue  was  the  strangest  part  of  it.     It  came 
X90 


MR.    MAXWELL   AND    MR.    HARRY 


191 


and  went  like  lightning.  I  was  uneasy  about  it, 
and  began  to  bark. 

' '  What' s  the  matter,  Joe  ? ' '  said  Mrs.  Wood  ; 
"the  pig  won't  hurt  you." 

But  it  wasn't  the  pig  I  was  afraid  of,  and  I  kept 
on  barking.  And  all  the  time  that  strange  live 
thing  kept  sticking  up  its  head  and  putting  out  its 
tongue  at  me,  and  neither  of  them  noticed  it. 

' '  Its  getting  on  toward  six, ' '  said  Mrs.  Wood  ; 
' '  we  must  be  going  home.     Come,  Mr.  Maxwell. ' ' 

The  young  man  put  the  guinea  pig  in  his  pocket, 
picked  up  his  crutches,  and  we  started  down  the 
sunny  village  street.  He  left  his  guinea  pig  at  his 
boarding  house  as  he  went  by,  but  he  said  nothing 
about  the  other  creature,  so  I  knew  he  did  not 
know  it  was  there. 

I  was  very  much  taken  with  Mr.  Maxwell.  He 
seemed  so  bright  and  happy,  in  spite  of  his  lame- 
ness, which  kept  him  from  running  about  like  other 
young  men.  He  looked  a  little  older  than  Miss 
Laura,  and  one  day,  a  week  or  two  later,  when  they 
were  sitting  on  the  veranda,  I  heard  him  tell  her 
that  he  was  just  nineteen.  He  told  her,  too,  that  his 
lameness  made  him  love  animals.  They  never 
laughed  at  him,  or  slighted  him,  or  got  impatient, 
because  he  could  not  walk  quickly.  They  were 
always  good  to  him,  and  he  said  he  loved  all  ani- 
mals while  he  liked  very  few  people. 

On  this  day  as  he  was  limping  along,  he  said  to 
Mrs.  Wood  :  "  I  am  getting  more  absent-minded 

pade?" 


192 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


"No,"  she  said. 

"  I  am  glad,"  he  replied.  "  I  was  afraid  that 
it  would  be  all  over  the  village  by  this  time.  I 
went  to  church  last  Sunday  with  my  poor  guinea 
pig  in  my  pocket.  He  hasn't  been  well,  and  I  was 
attending  to  him  before  church,  and  put  him  in 
there  to  get  warm,  and  forgot  about  him.  Unfor- 
tunately I  was  late,  and  the  back  seats  were  all 
full,  so  I  had  to  sit  farther  up  than  I  usually  do. 
During  the  first  hymn  I  happened  to  strike  Piggy 
against  the  side  of  the  seat.  Such  an  ear-splitting 
squeal  as  he  set  up.  It  sounded  as  if  I  was  murder- 
ing him.  The  people  stared  and  stared,  and  I  had 
to  leave  the  church,  overwhelmed  with  confusion. '  * 

Mrs.  Wood  and  Miss  Laura  laughed,  and  then 
they  got  talking  about  other  matters  that  were  not 
interesting  to  me,  so  I  did  not  listen.  But  I  kept 
close  to  Miss  Laura,  for  I  was  afraid  that  green 
thing  might  hurt  her.  I  wondered  very  much  what 
its  name  was.  I  don't  think  I  should  have  feared 
it  so  much  if  I  had  known  what  it  was. 

' '  There' s  something  the  matter  with  Joe, ' '  said 
Miss  Laura,  when  we  got  into  the  lane.  ' '  What 
is  it,  dear  old  fellow  ? '  *  She  put  down  her  Httle 
hand,  and  I  licked  it,  and  wished  so  much  that  I 
could  speak. 

Sometimes  I  wish  very  much  that  I  had  the  gift 
of  speech,  and  then  at  other  times  I  see  how  little 
it  would  profit  me,  and  how  many  foolish  things  I 
should   often  say.     And  I   don't  beHeve  human 


u^z u    1 :. 1-    __   „._ii      ir   xi ij 

uciiigs  vvuuiu  luvc  ii,iiixiicii&    as  weil,   li.  uicy  ^uuiu 

speak. 


MR.    MAXWELL    AND   MR.    HARRY  I93 

When  we  reached  the  house,  we  got  a  joyful 
surprise.  There  was  a  trunk  standing  on  the 
veranda,  and  as  soon  as  Mrs.  Wood  saw  it,  she 
gave  a  Httle  shriek  :   ♦'  My  dear  boy  !  " 

Mr.  Harry  was  there,  sure  enough,  and  stepped 
out  through  the  open  door.  He  took  his  mother 
in  his  arms  and  kissed  her,  then  he  shook  hands 
with  Miss  Laura  and  Mr.  Maxwell,  who  seemed  to 
be  an  old  friend  of  his.  They  all  sat  down  on  the 
veranda  and  talked,  and  I  lay  at  Miss  Laura's 
feet  and  looked  at  Mr.  Harry.  He  was  such  a 
handsome  young  man,  and  had  such  a  noble  face. 
He  was  older  and  graver  looking  than  when  I  saw 
him  last,  and  he  had  a  light,  brown  moustache  that 
he  did  not  have  when  he  was  in  Fairport. 

He  seemed  very  fond  of  his  mother  and  of  Miss 
Laura,  and  however  grave  his  face  might  bewhea 
he  was  looking  at  Mr.  Maxwell,  it  always  lighted 
up  when  he  turned  to  them.  • '  What  dog  is  that  ?  *  * 
he  said  at  last,  with  a  puzzled  face,  and  pointing 
to  me. 

"Why,  Harry,"  exclaimed  Miss  Laura,  "don't 
you  know  Beautiful  Joe,  that  you  rescued  from  that 
wretched  milkman  ?  " 

"  Is  it  possible,"  he  said,  "  that  this  well-con- 
ditioned creature  is  the  bundle  of  dirty  skin  and 
bones  that  we  nursed  in  Fairport  ?  Come  here, 
sir.     Do  you  remember  me  ? ' ' 

Indeed  I  did  remember  him,  and  I  licked  his 
hands  and  looked  up  gratefully  into  his  face. 
"You're  almost  handsome  now,"  he  said,  caress- 
ing me  with  a  firm,  kind  hand,    "and  of  a  solid 

»3 


!■!■ 


194 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


build,  too.  You  look  like  a  fighter— but  I  suppose 
you  wouldn't  let  him  fight,  even  if  he  wanted  to, 
Laura, ' '  and  he  smiled  and  glanced  at  her. 

•'  No,"  she  said  ;  "  I  don't  think  I  should  ;  but 
he  can  fight  when  the  occasion  requires  it. ' '  And 
she  told  him  about  our  night  with  Jenkins. 

All  the  time  she  was  speaking,  Mr.  Harry  held 
me  by  the  paws,  and  stroked  my  body  over  and 
over  again.  When  she  finished,  he  put  his  head 
down  to  me,  and  murmured,  "Good  dog,"  and  I 
saw  that  his  eyes  were  red  and  shining. 

"That's  a  capital  story,  we  must  have  it  at  the 
Band  of  Mercy,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell.  Mrs.  Wood 
had  gone  to  help  prepare  the  tea,  so  the  two  young 
men  were  alone  with  Miss  Laura.  When  they  had 
done  talking  about  me,  she  asked  Mr.  Harry  a 
number  of  questions  about  his  college  life,  and  his 
trip  to  New  York,  for  he  had  not  been  studying  all 
the  time  that  he  was  away. 

♦ '  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  yourself.  Gray, 
when  your  college  course  is  ended  ? ' '  asked  Mr. 
Maxwell. 

"  I  am  going  to  settle  right  down  here, ' '  said 

Mr.  Harry. 

"What,  be  a  farmer?"  asked  his  friend. 

'  •  Yes  ;  why  not  ? " 

"  Nothing,  only  I  imagined  that  you  would  take 
a  profession." 

The  professions  are  overstocked,  and  we  have 
not  farmers  enough  for  the  good  of  the  country. 

liCiC  ib  iiutxiJiiij^  iixi-v*  x«Ai»».«ii^,   »■ J   

Other  employment  have  you  a  surer  living.     I  do 


uppose 
ted  to, 

i  ;  but 

•  And 

ry  held 
er  and 
s  head 

•  and  I 

t  at  the 
.Wood 
'  young 
ley  had 
larry  a 
and  his 
ying  all 

f,  Gray, 
ed  Mr. 

,"  said 

id. 

uld  take 

we  have 

:ountry. 

In  no 

:.     I  do 


MR.  MAXWELL  AND   MR.  HARRY  IQC 

not  like  the  cities.     The  heat  and  dust,  and  crowds 
of  people,  and  buildings  overtopping  one  another, 
and  the  rush  of  living,  take  my  breath  away.     Sup- 
pose I  did  go  to  a  city.     I  would  sell  out  my  share 
of  the  farm,    and  have  a  few  thousand  dollars. 
Vou  know  I  am  not  an  intellectual  giant.     I  would 
never    distinguish    myself  in    any    profession.     I 
would  be  a  poor  lawyer  or  doctor,  living  in  a  back 
street  all  the  days  of  my  life,  and  never  watch  a 
tree  or  flower  )?row.  or  tend  an  animal,  or  have 
a  drive  unless  I  paid  for  it.     No,  thank  you.     I 
agree  with  President  Eliot,  of  Harvard.     He  says 
scarcely  one  person  in  ten  thousand  betters  him- 
self permanently  by  leaving  his  rural  home  and 
settling  in  a  city.     If  one  is  a  millionaire,  city  Hfe 
is  agreeable  enough,  for  one  can  always  get  away 
from  it ;  but  I  am  beginning  to  think  that  it  is  a 
dangerous  thing,  in  more  ways  than  one,  to  be 
a  millionaire.     I  believe  the  safety  of  the  country 
lies  in  the  hands  of  the  farmers  ;  for  they  are  sel- 
dom very  poor  or  very  rich.     We  stand  between 
the  two  dangerous  classes—the  wealthy  and  the 
paupers. ' ' 

"But  most  farmers  lead  such  a  dog's  life," 
said  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"  So  they  do  ;  farming  isn't  made  one-half  as 
attractive  as  it  should  be, ' '  said  Mr.  Harry. 

Mr.  Maxwell  smiled.  "Attractive  farming. 
Just  sketch  an  outline  of  that,  will  you.  Gray  .?"  * 

"In  the  first  place, ' '  said  Mr.  Harry,  ' '  I  would 

.^„t  „,  u^c  ncciit  ui  iRc  larmer  me  thmg 

that  is  as  firmly  implanted  in  him  as  it  is  in  the 


196  BEAUTIFUL   JOE 

heart  of  his  city  brother — the  thing  that  is  doing 
more  to  harm  our  nation  than  anything  else  under 

the  sun." 

•  •  What  is  that? ' '  asked  Mr.  Maxwell,  curiously. 

•  •  The  thirst  for  gold.  The  farmer  wants  to  get 
rich,  and  he  works  so  hard  to  do  it  that  he  wears 
himself  out  soul  and  body,  and  the  young  people 
around  him  get  so  disgusted  with  that  way  of  get- 
ting rich,  that  they  go  off  to  the  cities  to  find  out 
some  other  way,  or  at  least  to  enjoy  themselves, 
for  I  don't  think  many  young  people  are  animated 
byia  desire  to  heap  up  money." 

Mr.  Maxwell  looked  amused.  "  There  is  cer- 
tainly a  great  exodus  from  country  places  city- 
ward," he  said.  "What  would  be  your  plan  for 
checking  it  ?  " 

•  •  I  would  make  the  farm  so  pleasant,  that  you 
couldn't  hire  the  boys  and  girls  to  leave  it.  I 
would  have  them  work,  and  work  hard,  too,  but 
when  their  work  was  over,  I  would  let  them  have 
some  fun.  That  is  what  they  go  to  the  city  for. 
They  want  amusement  and  society,  and  to  get  into 
some  kind  of  a  crowd  when  their  work  is  done. 
The  young  men  and  young  women  want  to  get 
together,  as  is  only  natural.  Now  that  could  be 
done  in  the  country.  If  farmers  would  be  con- 
tented with  smaller  profits  and  smaller  farms,  their 
houses  could  be  nearer  together.  Their  children 
would  have  opportunities  of  social  intercourse, 
there  could  be  societies  and  clubs,  and  that  would 
tend  10  a  aiscriuuuuii  ui  iitciauaic.  .n.  xdiixix-x 
ought  to  take  five  or  six  papers  and  two  or  three 


MR.   MAXWELL    AND    MR.  HARRY 


197 


magazines.  He  would  find  it  would  pay  him  in 
the  long  run,  and  there  ought  to  be  i  law  made, 
compelling  him  to  go  to  the  post  office  once  a  day." 
Mr.  Maxwell  burst  out  laughing.  "And 
another  to  make  him  mend  his  roads  as  well  as 
mend  his  ways.  I  tell  you  Gray,  the  bad  roads 
would  put  an  end  to  all  these  fine  schemes  of  yours. 
Imagine  farmers  calling  on  each  other  on  a  dark 
evening  after  a  spring  freshet.  I  can  see  them 
mired  and  bogged,  and  the  house  a  mile  ahead 
of  them." 

"That  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  "the  road 
question  is  a  serious  one.  Do  you  know  how 
father'  and  I  settle  it .? " 

"No,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"We  got  so  tired  of  the  whole  business,  and 
the  farmers  around  here  spent  so  much  time  in 
discussing  the  art  of  roadmaking,  as  to  whether  it 
should  be  viewed  from  the  engineering  point  of 
view,  or  the  farmers'  practical  point  of  view,  and 
whether  we  would  require  this  number  of  stump 
extractors  or  that  number,  and  how  many  shovels 
and  crushers  and  ditchers  would  be  necessary  to 
keep  our  roads  in  order,  and  so  on,  that  we  simply 
withdrew.  We  keep  our  own  roads  in  order.  Once 
a  year,  father  gets  a  gang  of  men  and  tackles 
every  section  of  the  road  that  borders  upon  our 
land,  and  our  roads  are  the  best  around  here.  I 
wish  the  government  would  take  up  this  matter  of 
making  roads  and  settle  it.  If  we  had  good, 
oiixv^otn,  Lvjuiiiiy  lOaua,  bucu  as  tney  nave  in  some 
parts  of  Europe,  we  would  be  able  to  travel  com- 


198 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


fortably  over  them  all  through  the  year,  and  our 
draught  animals  would  last  longer,  for  they  would 
not  have  to  expend  so  much  energy  in  drawing 
their  loads." 


CHAPTER  XXII 


WHAT    HAPPENED    AT   THE   TEA    TABLE 

ROM  my  station  under  Miss  Laura's  chair, 
I  could  see  that  all  the  time  Mr.  Harry 
was  speaking,  Mr.  Maxwell,  although 
he  spoke  rather  as  if  he  was  laughing  at  him,  was 
yet  grlancing  at  him  admiringly. 

When  Mr.    Harry  was  silent,  he  exclaimed, 
"You  are  right,  you  are  right.  Gray.     With  your 
smooth    highways,    and   plenty   of  schools,    and 
churches,  and  libraries,  and  meetings  for  young 
people,  you  would  make  country  life  a  paradise, 
and  T  tell  you  what  you  would  do.  too  ;  you  would 
empty  the  slums  of  the  cities.     It  is  the  slowness 
and  dullness  of  country  life,  and  not  their  poverty 
alone,  that  keep  the  poor  in  dirty  lanes  and  tene- 
ment houses.    They  want  stir  and  amusement,  too, 
poor  souls,  when  their  day's  work  is  over.     I  be- 
lieve they  would  come  to  the  country  if  it  were 
made  more  pleasant  for  them. ' ' 

"That  is  another  question, "  said  Mr.  Harry, 
"a  burning  question  in  my  mind— the  labor  and 
capital  one.  When  I  was  in  New  York,  Max- 
well, I  was  in  a  hospital,  and  saw  a  number  of 

199 


200 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


men  who  had  been  day  laborers.  Some  of  them 
were  old  and  feeble,  and  others  were  young  men, 
broken  down  in  the  prime  of  life.  Their  limbs 
were  shrunken  and  drawn.  They  had  been  dig- 
ging in  the  earth,  and  working  on  high  buildings, 
and  confined  in  dingy  basements,  and  had  done 
all  kinds  of  hard  labor  for  other  men.  They  had 
given  their  lives  and  strength  for  others,  and  this 
was  the  end  of  it — to  die  poor  and  forsaken.  I 
looked  at  them,  and  they  reminded  me  of  the 
martyrs  of  old.  Ground  down,  living  from  hand 
to  mouth,  separated  from  their  families  in  many 
cases — they  had  had  a  bitter  lot.  They  had 
never  had  a  chance  to  get  away  from  their  fate, 
and  had  to  work  till  they  dropped.  I  tell  you 
there  is  something  wrong.  We  don't  do  enough 
for  the  people  that  slave  and  toil  for  us.  We 
should  take  better  care  of  them,  we  should  not 
herd  them  together  like  cattle,  and  when  we  get 
rich,  we  should  carry  them  along  with  us,  and 
give  them  a  part  of  our  gains,  for  without  them 
we  would  be  as  poor  as  they  are." 

"Good,  Harry — I'm  with  you  there,"  said  a 
voice  behind  him,  and  looking  around,  we  saw 
Mr.  Wood  standing  in  the  doorwiy,  gazing  down 
proudly  at  his  step-son. 

Mr.  Harry  smiled,  and  getting  up,  said, 
*' Won't  you  have  my  chair,  sir?" 

' '  No,  thank  you  ;  your  mother  wishes  us  to 
come  to  tea.  There  are  muffins,  and  you  know 
they  won't  improve  with  keeping." 

They  all  went  to  the  dining-room,  and  I  fol- 


WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  TEA  TABLE   20I 

lowed    them.      On    the    way.    Mr.    Wood   said 
"Right  on  top  of  that  talk  of  yours,  Harry.  I've 
got  to  tell  you  of  another  person  who  is  goine  to 
Boston  to  live." 

"Who  is  it  ?•'  said  Mr.  Harry. 
"Lazy  Dan  Wilson.  I've  been  to  see  him 
this  afternoon.  You  know  his  wife  is  sick  and 
they're  half  starved.  He  says  he  is  going  to  the 
city,  for  he  hates  to  chop  wood  and  work,  and  he 
thmks  maybe  he'll  get  some  light  job  there." 

Mr.    Harry  looked  grave,   and   Mr.   Maxwell 
said.  "  He  will  starve,  that's  what  he  will  do." 

"Precisely."   said  Mr.  Wood,  spreading  out 
his  hard,  brown  hands,   as  he  sat  down  at  the 
table.      "  I  don't  know  why  it  is.  but  the  present 
generation   has   a   marvelous   way   of  skimming 
around    any   kind    of    work    with    their    hands 
They'll  work  their   brains  till   they  haven't  .got 
any  more  backbone  than  a  caterpillar,  but  as  for 
manual  labor,  it's  old-timey  and  out  of  fashion 
I  wonder  how  these  farms  would  ever  have  been 
carved  out  of  the  backwoods,  if  the  old  Puritans 
had  sat  down  on  the  rocks  with  their  noses  in  a 
lot  of  books,  and  tried  to  figure  out  just  how  little 
work  they  could  do.  and  yet  exist." 

"Now.  father."  said  Mrs.  Wood,  "you  are 
trying  to  insinuate  that  the  present  generation  is 
lazy,  and  I'm  sure  it  isn't.  Look  at  Harry.  He 
works  as  hard  as  you  do. ' ' 

"  Isn't  that  Hke  a  woman  .?  "  said  Mr.  Wood 
with  a  good-natured  laugh.  ' '  The  present  gener' 
ation  consists  of  her  son,  and  the  past  of  her  hus- 


202 


BEAUTIFUL    TOE 


band.  I  don't  think  all  our  young  people  are 
lazy,  Hattie  ;  but  how  in  creation,  unless  the  Lord 
rains  down  a  few  farmers,  are  we  going  to  support 
all  our  young  lawyers  and  doctors  ?  They  say 
the  world  is  getting  healthier  and  better,  but  we've 
got  to  fight  a  little  more,  and  raise  some  more 
criminals,  and  we've  got  to  take  to  eating  pies 
and  doughnuts  for  breakfast  again,  or  some  of 
our  young  sprouts  from  the  colleges  will  go  a 
begging." 

"You  don't  mean  to  undervalue  the  advan- 
tages of  a  good  education,  do  you,  Mr.  Wood  ? ' ' 
said  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"  No,  no  ;  look  at  Harry  there.  Isn't  he  peg- 
ging away  at  his  studies  with  my  hearty  approval  ? 
and  he's  going  to  be  nothing  but  a  plain,  common 
farmer.  But  he'll  be  a  better  one  than  I've  been 
though,  because  he's  got  a  trained  mind.  I  found 
that  out  when  he  was  a  lad  going  to  the  village 
school.  He'd  lay  out  his  little  garden  by  geome- 
try, and  dig  his  diiches  by  algebra.  Education's 
a  help  to  any  man.  What  I  am  trying  to  get  at 
is  this,  that  in  some  way  or  other  we're  running 
more  to  brains  and  less  to  hard  work  than  our 
forefathers  did. '  * 

Mr.  Wood  was  beating  on  the  table  with  his 
forefinger  while  he  talked,  and  every  one  was 
laughing  at  him.  "When  you've  quite  finished 
speechifying,  John,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  "perhaps 
you'll  serve  the  berries  and  pass  the  cream  and 
sugar.  Do  you  get  yellow  cream  like  this  in  the 
village,  Mr.  Maxwell  ?  " 


1 


WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  TEA  TABLE   203 

"No,  Mrs.  Wood,"  he  said  ;  " ours  is  a  much 
paler  yellow,"  and  then  there  was  a  great  tinkling 
of  china,  and  passing  of  dishes,  and  talking  and 
laughing,  and  no  one  noticed  that  I  was  not  in 
my  usual  place  in  the  hall.  I  could  not  get  over 
my  dread  of  the  green  creature,  and  I  had  crept 
under  the  table,  so  that  if  it  came  out  and  fright- 
ened Miss  Laura,  I  could  jump  up  and  catch  it. 

When  tea  was  half  over,  she  gave  a  little  cry. 
I  sprang  up  on  her  lap,  and  there,  gliding  over 
the  table  toward  her,  was  the  wicked-looking 
green  thing.  I  stepped  on  the  table,  and  had  it 
by  the  middle  before  it  could  get  to  her.  My  hind 
legs  were  in  a  dish  of  jelly,  and  my  front  ones 
were  in  a  plate  of  cake,  and  I  was  very  uncomfor- 
table. The  tail  of  the  green  thing  hung  in  a  milk 
pitcher,  and  its  tongue  was  still  going  at  me,  but  I 
held  it  firmly  and  stood  quite  still. 

"  Drop  it,  drop  it !  "  cried  Miss  Laura,  in  tones 
of  distress,  and  Mr.  Maxwell  struck  me  on  the 
back,  so  I  let  the  thing  go.  and  stood  sheepishly 
looking  about  me.  Mr.  Wood  was  leaning  back 
in  his  chair,  laughing  with  all  his  might,  and  Mrs. 
Wood  was  staring  at  her  untidy  table  with  rather 
a  long  face.  Miss  Laura  told  me  to  jump  on  the 
floor,  and  then  she  helped  her  aunt  to  take  the 
spoiled  things  off  the  table. 

"I  felt  that  I  had  done  wrong,  so  I  slunk  out 
into  the  hall.  Mr.  Maxwell  was  sitting  on  the 
lounge,  tearing  his  handkerchief  in  strips  and  tying 
them  around  the  creature  where  my  teeth  had 
stuck  in.     I  had  been  careful  not  to  hurt  it  much, 


204 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


for  I  knew  it  was  a  pet  of  his  ;  but  he  did  not 
know  that,  and  scowled  at  me,  saying  :  "  You  ras- 
cal ;    you've  hurt  my  poor  snake  terribly." 

I  felt  so  badly  to  hear  this  that  I  went  and  stood 
with  my  head  in  a  corner.  I  had  almost  rather  be 
whipped  than  scolded.  After  a  while,  Mr.  Max- 
well went  back  into  the  room,  and  they  all  went 
on  with  their  tea.  I  could  hear  Mr.  Wood's  loud, 
cheery  voice,  ' '  The  dog  did  quite  right.  A  snake 
is  mostly  a  poisonous  creature,  and  his  instinct 
told  him  to  protect  his  mistress.  Where  is  he  ? 
Jop.  Joe!" 

I  would  not  move  till  Miss  Laura  came  and 
spoke  to  me.  ' '  Dear  old  dog, ' '  she  whispered, 
"you  knew  the  snake  was  there  all  the  time,  didn't 
you?"  Her  words  made  me  feel  better,  and  I 
followed  her  to  the  dining  room,  where  Mr.  Wood 
made  me  sit  beside  him  and  eat  scraps  from  his 
hand  all  through  the  meal. 

Mr.  Maxwell  had  got  over  his  ill  humor,  and 
was  chatting  in  a  lively  way.  ' '  Good  Joe, ' '  he 
said,  "  I  was  cross  to  you,  and  I  beg  your  pardon. 
It  always  riles  me  to  have  any  of  my  pets  injured. 
You  didn't  know  my  poor  snake  was  only  after 
something  to  eat.  Mrs.  Wood  has  pinned  him  in 
my  pocket  so  he  won't  come  out  again.  Do  you 
know  where  I  got  that  snake,  Mrs.  Wood  ? ' ' 

"  No,"  she  said  ;    "  you  never  told  me." 

"  It  was  across  the  river  by  Blue  Ridge,"  he 
said.  "One  day  last  summer  I  was  out  rowing, 
and,  getting  very  hot,  tied  my  boat  in  the  shade 
of  a  big  tree.     Some  village   boys  were  in  the 


he 


WHAT  HAPPENED  AT  THE  TEA  TABLE   205 

woods,  and,  hearing  a  great  noise,  I  went  to  see 
what  it  was  all  about.     They  were  Band  of  Mercy 
boys,  and  finding  a  country  boy  beating  a  snake 
to  death,  they  were  remonstrating  with  him  for  his 
cruelty,   telling  him  that  some   kinds  of   snakes 
were  a  help  to  the  farmer,  and  destroyed  large 
numbers  of  field  mice  and  other  vermin.     The  boy 
was  obstinate.      He  had  found  the  snake,  and  he 
insisted  upon  his  right  to  kill  it,  and  they  were 
having  rather  a  lively  time  when  I  appeared.     I 
persuaded  them  to  make  the  snake  over  to  me. 
Apparently   it   was  already   dead.      Thinking   it 
might  revive,  I  put  it  on  some  grass  in  the  bow  of 
the  boat.     It  lay  there  motionless  for  a  long  time, 
and  I  picked  up  my  oars  and  started  for  home.     I 
had  got  half  way  across  the  river,  when  I  turned 
around  and  saw  that  the  snake  was  gone.     It  had 
just  dropped  into  the  water,  and  was  swimming 
toward  the  bank  we  had  left.     I  turned  and  fol- 
lowed it. 

"It  swam  slowly  and  with  evident  pain,  Hfting 
its  head  every  few  seconds  high  above  the  water, 
to  see  which  way.  it  was  going.  On  reaching  the 
bank  it  coiled  itself  up,  throwing  up  blood  and 
water.  I  took  it  up  carefully,  carried  it  home,  and 
nursed  it.  It  soon  got  better,  and  has  been  a  pet 
of  mine  ever  since." 

After  tea  was  over,  and  Mrs.  Wood  and  Miss 
Laura  had  helped  Adele  finish  the  work,  they  all 
gathered  in  the  parior.  The  day  had  been  quite 
warm,  but  now  a  cool  wind  had  sprung  up,  and 
Mr.  Wood  said  that  it  was  blowing  up  rain. 


2o6 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Mrs.  Wood  said  that  she  thought  a  fire  wouM 
be  pleasant ;  so  they  lighted  the  sticks  of  wood 
in  the  open  grate,  and  all  sat  round  the  blazing 
fire. 

Mr.  Maxwell  tried  to  get  me  to  make  friends 
with  the  little  snake  that  he  held  in  his  hands  to- 
ward the  blaze,  and  now  that  I  knew  that  it  was 
harmless  I  was  not  afraid  of  it ;  but  it  did  not  like 
me,  and  put  out  its  funny  little  tongue  whenever  I 
looked  at  it. 

By-and-by  the  rain  began  to  strike  against  the 
windows,  and  Mr.  Maxwell  said,  "This  is  just 
themightfora  story.  Tell  us  something  out  of 
your  experience,  won't  you,  Mr.  Wood?" 

"What  shall  I  tell  you.?"  he  said,  good- 
humoredly.  He  was  sitting  between  his  wife 
and  Mr.  Harry,  and  had  his  hand  on  Mr.  Harry's 
knee. 

•  'Something  about  animals, ' '  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 
"We  seem  to  be  on  that  subject  to-day." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  "I'll  talk  about 
something  that  has  been  running  in  my  head  for 
many  a  day.  There  is  a  good  deal  of  talk  now- 
adays about  kindness  to  domestic  animals  ;  but  I 
do  not  hear  much  about  kindness  to  wild  ones. 
The  same  Creator  formed  them  both.  I  do  not 
see  why  you  should  not  protect  one  as  well  as  the 
other.  I  have  no  more  right  to  torture  a  bear  than 
a  cow.  Our  wild  animals  around  here  are  getting 
pretty  well  killed  off,  but  there  are  lots  in  other 
places.  I  used  to  be  fond  of  hunting  when  I  was 
a  boy  ;  but  I  have  got  rather  disgusted  with  killing 


WHAT    HAPPENED   AT   THE  TEA   TABLE        207 

these  late  years,  and  unless  the  wild  creatures  ran 
in  our  streets.  I  would  lift  no  hand  to  them.  Shall 
I  tell  you  some  of  the  sport  we  had  when  I  was  a 
youngster  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  yes  I"  they  all  exclaimed. 


IT 


CHAPTER  XXIII 


TRAPPING  WILD   ANIMALS 


ELL,"  Mr.  Wood  began  :  *•  I  was  brought 
up,  as  you  all  know,  in  the  eastern  part 
of  Maine,  and  we  often  used  to  go  over 
into  New  Brunswick  for  our  sport.  Moose  were 
our  best  game.     Did  you  ever  see  one,  Laura  ? '  * 

"No,  uncle,"  she  said. 

' '  Well,  when  I  was  a  boy  there  was  no  more 
beautiful  sight  to  me  in  the  world  than  a  moose 
with  his  dusky  hide,  and  long  legs,  and  branching 
antlers,  and  shoulders  standing  higher  than  a 
horse's.  Their  legs  are  so  long  that  they  can't  eat 
close  to  the  ground.  They  browse  on  the  tops  of 
plants,  and  the  tender  shoots  and  leaves  of  trees. 
They  walk  among  the  thick  underbrush,  carrying 
their  horns  adroitly  to  prevent  their  catching  in  the 
branches,  and  they  step  so  well,  and  aim  so  true, 
that  you'll  scarcely  hear  a  twig  fall  as  they  go. 

"They're  a  timid  creature  except  at  times. 
Then  they'll  attack  with  hoofs  and  antlers  what- 
ever comes  in  their  way.  They  hate  mosquitoes, 
and  when  they're  tormented  by  them  it's  just  as 

well  to  be  careful  about  approaching  them.     Like 
208 


TRAPPING   WILD   ANIMALS 


209 


all  other  creatures,  the  Lord  has  put  into  them  a 
wonderful  amount  of  sense,  and  when  a  female 
moose  has  her  one  or  two  fawns  she  goes  into  the 
deepest  part  of  the  forest,  or  swims  to  islands  in 
large  lakes,  till  they  are  able  to  look  out  for  them- 
selves. 

"  Well,  wt  used  to  like  to  catch  a  moose,  and 

we  had  different  ways  of  doing  it.     One  way  was 

to  snare  them.     We'd  make  a  loop  in  a  rope  and 

hide  It  on  the  ground  under  the  dead  leaves  in  one 

of  their  paths.     This  was  connected  with  a  young 

saplmg  whose  top  was  bent  down.     When   the 

moose  stepped  on  the  loop  it  would  release  the 

saphng.  and  up  it  would  bound,  catching  him  by 

the  leg.     These  snares  were  always  set  deep  in  the 

woods,  and  we  couldn't  visit  them  very   often 

Sometimes  the  moose  would  be  there  for  days,  rag- 

mg  and  tearing  around,  and  scratching  the' skin 

off  his  legs.     That  was  cruel.     I  wouldn't  catch  a 

moose  in  that  way  now  for  a  hundred  dollars. 

"Another  way  was  to  hunt  them  on  snow  shoes 

with  dogs.     In  February  and  March  the  snow  was 

deep,  and  would  carry  men  and  dogs.     Moose 

don  t  go  together  in  herds.     In  the  summer  they 

wander  about  over  the  forest,  and  in  the  autumn 

they  come  together  in  small  groups,  and  select  a 

hundred  or  two  of  acres  where  there  is  plenty  of 

heavy  undergrowth,  and  to  which  they  usually  con- 

fine  themselves.     They  do  this  so  that  their  tracks 

won't  tell  their  enemies  where  they  are. 

"  Anv  of  these  nlares  w^-^^—  *i ^^^  t 

^  ^idv^co  vrxiv-ic  Liicic  were  several 

moose  we  called  a  moose  yard.     We  went  through 


2JO 


BRAUTIFUL   JOE 


the  woods  till  we  got  on  to  the  tracks  of  some  of 
the  animals  belonging  to  it,  then  the  dogs  smelled 
them  and  went  ahead  to  start  them.  If  I  shut  my 
eyes  now  I  can  see  one  of  our  moose  hunts.  The 
moose  running  and  plunging  through  the  snow 
crust,  and  occasionally  rising  up  and  striking  at 
the  dogs  that  hang  on  to  his  bleeding  flanks  and 
legs.  The  hunters'  rifles  going  crack,  crack,  crack, 
sometimes  killing  or  wounding  dogs  as  well  as 
moose.     That,  too,  was  cruel. 

"Two  other  ways  we  had  of  hunting  moose  : 
Callin-  and  stalking.  The  calling  was  done  in 
this'  way  :  We  took  a  bit  of  birch  bark  and  rolled 
it  up  in  the  shape  of  a  horn.  We  took  this  horn 
and  started  out,  either  on  a  bright  moonlight  night 
or  just  at  evening,  or  early  in  the  morning.  The 
man  who  carried  the  horn  hid  himself,  and  then 
began  to  make  a  lowing  sound  like  a  female  moose. 
He  had  to  do  it  pretty  well  to  deceive  them.  Away 
in  the  distance  some  moose  would  hear  it,  and 
with  answering  grunts  would  start  ofT  to  come  to 
it.  If  a  young  male  moose  was  coming,  he'd  mind 
his  steps,  I  can  assure  you,  on  account  of  fear  of 
the  old  ones  ;  but  if  it  was  an  old  fellow,  you'd 
hear  him  stepping  out  bravely  and  rapping  his 
horns  against  the  trees,  and  plunging  into  any 
water  that  came  in  his  way.  When  he  got  pretty 
near,  he'd  stop  to  listen,  and  then  the  caller  had 
to  be  very  careful  and  put  his  trumpet  down  clo" 
to  the  ground,  so  as  to  make  a  lower  sound.  It 
the  moose  felt  doubtful  he'd  turn  ;  it  not,  he'<J 
come  on,  and  unlucky  for  him  if  he  did,  for  he 


TRAPPING    WILD   ANIMALS 


211 


got  a  warm  reception,  cither  from  the  rifles  in  our 
hands  as  we  lay  hid  near  the  caller,  or  from  some 
of  the  party  stationed  at  a  distance. 

"In  stalking,  we  crept  on  them  the  way  a  cat 
creeps  on  a  mouse.     In  the  daytime  a  moose  is 
usually  lying  down.     We'd  find  their  tracks  and 
places  where  they'd  been  uipjung  off  the  ends  of 
branches  and  twigs,  nnd  follow  them  up.     They 
easily  take  the  scent  of  men,  and  we'd  have  to 
keep  well  to  the  windward.     Sometimes  we'd  come 
upon  them  lying  down,  but,  if  in  walking  along, 
we'd  broken  a  twig,  or  made  the  slightest  noise] 
they'd  think  it  was  one  of  their  mortal  enemies,  a 
bear— creeping  on  them,  and  they'd  be  up  and 
away.     Their  sense  of  hearing  is  very  keen,  but 
they're  not  so  quick  to  see.    A  fox  is  like  that,'  too. 
His  eyes  aren't  equal  to  his  nose.- 

"Stalking  is  the  most  merciful  way  to  kill  a 
moose.  Then  they  haven't  the  fright  and  suffer- 
ing of  the  chase." 

"I  don't  see  why  they  need  to  be  killed  at 
all, "  said  Mrs.  Wood.  "  If  I  knew  that  forest  back 
of  the  mountains  was  full  of  wild  creatures,  I  think 
I'd  be  glad  of  it,  and  not  want  to  hunt  them,  that 
is,  .1  uicv  were  ^larmless  and  beautiful  creatures 
li'.-   ''0  .c::er." 

"You're  a  woman,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  "and 
women  are  more  merciful  than  men.  Men  want 
to  kill  and  slay.  They're  like  the  Englishman, 
who  said  :  '  What  a  fine  day  it  is  ;  let's  go  out  and 
kill  something.'  " 

Please  tell  us  some  more  about  the  dogs  that 


I « 


212 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


m 


helped  you  catch  the  moose,  uncle,"  said  Miss 
Laura.  I  was  sitting  up  very  straight  beside  her, 
listening  to  every  word  Mr.  Wood  said,  and  she 
was  fondling  my  head. 

••Well,  Laura,  when  we  camped  out  on  the 
snow  and  slept  on  spruce  boughs  while  we  were 
after  the  moose,  the  dogs  used  to  be  a  great  com- 
fort to  us.  They  slept  at  our  feet  and  kept  us 
warm.  Poor  brutes,  they  mostly  had  a  rough  time 
of  it.  They  enjoyed  the  running  and  chasing  as 
much  as  we  did,  but  when  it  came  to  broken  ribs 
and  sore  heads,  it  was  another  matter.  Then  the 
porcupines  bothered  them.  Our  dogs  would  never 
learn  to  let  them  alone.  If  they  were  going  through 
the  woods  where  there  were  no  signs  of  moose  and 
found  a  porcupine,  they'd  kill  it.  The  quills  would 
get  in  their  mouths  and  necks  and  chests,  and 
we'd  have  to  gag  them  and  take  bullet  molds  or 
nippers,  or  whatever  we  had,  sometimes  our  jack- 
knives,  and  pull  out  the  nasty  things.  If  we  got 
hold  of  the  dogs  at  once,  we  could  pull  out  the 
quills  with  our  fingers.  Sometimes  the  quills  had 
worked  in,  and  the  dogs  would  go  home  and  He  by 
the  fire  with  running  sores  till  they  worked  out. 
I've  seen  quills  work  right  through  dogs.  Go  in 
on  one  side  and  come  out  on  the  other.  ' 

"  Poor  brutes,"  said  Mrs.  Wood.  •'  I  wonder 
you  took  them. ' ' 

"We  once  lost  a  valuable  hound  while  moose 
hunting,"  said  Mr.  Wood.  "The  moose  struck 
him  with  his  hoof  and  the  dog  was  terribly  injured, 
and  lay  in  the  woods  for  days,  till  a  neighbor  of 


TRAPPING   WILD   ANIMALS 


213 


ours,  who  was  looking  for  timber,  found  him  and 
brought  him  home  on  his  shoulders.  Wasn't  there 
rejoicing  among  us  boys  to  see  old  Lion  coming 
back.  We  took  care  of  him  and  he  got  well 
again. 

"  It  was  good  sport  to  see  the  dogs  when  we 
were  hunting  a  bear  with  them.  Bears  are  good 
runners,  and  when  dogs  get  after  them,  there  is 
great  skirmishing.  They  nip  the  bear  behind,  and 
when  they  turn,  the  dogs  run  like  mad,  for  a  hug 
from  a  bear  means  sure  death  to  a  dog.  If  they  got 
a  slap  from  his  paws,  over  they'd  go.  Dogs  new 
to  the  business  were  often  killed  by  the  bears." 

"Were  there  many  bears  near  your  home,  Mr. 
Wood  ?  "  asked  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"  Lots  of  them.  More  than  we  wanted.  They 
used  to  bother  us  fearfully  about"  our  sheep  and 
cattle.  I've  often  had  to  get  up  in  the  night,  and 
run  out  to  the  cattle.  The  bears  would  come  out 
of  the  woods,  and  jump  on  to  the  young  heifers 
and  cows,  and  strike  them  and  beat  them  down, 
and  the  cattle  would  roar  as  if  the  evil  one  had 
them.  If  the  cattle  were  too  far  away  from  the 
house  for  us  to  hear  them,  the  bears  would  worry 
them  till  they  were  dead. 

"As  for  the  sheep,  they  never  made  any  re- 
sistance. They'd  meekly  run  in  a  corner  when 
they  saw  a  bear  coming,  and  huddle  together,  and 
he'd  strike  at  them,  and  scratch  them  with  his 

claws,   and  norhnn'?  wminrl     o   Ac'-'^^  K^fr^..^    i,„ M. 

one  firmly.     Then  he'd  seize  it  in  his  paws,  and 
walk  off  on  his  hind  legs  over  fences  and  anything 


214 


IVKAUTIFUL   JOE 


else  that  came  in  his  way,  till  he  came  to  a  nice, 
retired  spot,  and  there  he'd  sit  down  and  skin  that 
sheep  just  like  a  butcher.  He'd  gorge  himself 
with  the  meat,  and  in  the  morning  we'd  find  the 
other  sheep  that  he'd  torn,  and  we'd  vow  ven- 
geance against  that  bear.  He'd  be  almost  sure  to 
come  back  for  more,  so  for  a  while  after  thai  we 
always  put  the  sheep  in  the  barn  at  nights  and  set 
a  trap  by  the  remains  of  the  one  he  had  eaten. 

"Everybody  hated  bears,  and  hadn't  much 
pity  for  them  ;  still  they  were  only  getting  their 
mea^  as  other  wild  animals  do,  and  we'd  no  right 
to  set  such  cruel  traps  for  them  as  the  steel  ones. 
They  had  a  clog  attached  to  them,  and  had  long, 
sharp  teeth.  We  put  them  on  the  ground  and 
strewed  leaves  over  them,  and  hung  up  some  of 
the  carcass  left  by  the  bear  near  by.  When  he 
attempted  to  get  this  meat,  he  would  tread  on  the 
trap,  and  the  teeth  would  spring  together,  and 
catch  him  by  the  leg.  They  always  fought  to  get 
free.  I  once  saw  a  bear  that  had  been  making  a 
desperate  effort  to  get  away.  His  leg  was  broken, 
the  skin  and  flesh  were  all  torn  a  vay,  and  he  was 
held  by  the  tendons.  It  was  a  foreleg  that  was 
caught,  and  he  would  put  his  hind  feet  against  the 
jaws  of  the  trap,  and  then  draw  by  pressing  with 
his  feet,  till  he  would  stretch  those  tendons  to  their 
utmost  extent. 

' '  I  have  known  them  to  work  away  till  they 

wAolKr  rM«11o<4     fVxaco     f«ar«Hr>nc     r\\^t    r\f    tV»A     fnrtt     ^ITlfl 

got  off.     It  was  a  great  event  in  our  neighborhood 
when  a  bear  was  caught.     Whoever  caught  him 


TRAPPING    WILD    ANIMALS 


215 


blew  a  horn,  and  the  men  and  boys  came  trooping 
together  to  see  the  sight.  I've  known  them  to 
blow  that  horn  on  a  Sunday  morning,  and  I've 
seen  the  men  turn  their  backs  on  the  meeting 
house  to  go  and  see  the  bear." 

"  Was  there  no  more  merciful  way  of  catching 
them  than  by  this  trap  ? "   asked  Miss  Laura. 

"Oh,  yes,  by  the  deadfall — that  is  by  driving 
heavy  sticks  into  the  ground,  and  making  a  box- 
like place,  open  on  one  side,  where  two  logs  were 
so  arranged  with  other  heavy  logs  upon  them, 
that  when  the  bear  seized  the  bait,  the  upper  log 
fell  down  and  crushed  him  to  death.  Another 
way  was  to  fix  a  bait  in  a  certain  place,  with 
cords  tied  to  it,  which  cords  were  fastened  to  trig- 
gers of  guns  placed  at  a  little  distance.  When 
the  bear  took  the  bait,  the  guns  went  off,  and  he 
shot  himself. 

' '  Sometimes  it  took  a  good  many  bullets  to 
kill  them.  I  remember  one  old  fellow  that  we  put 
eleven  into,  before  he  keeled  over.  It  was  one 
fall,  over  on  Pike's  Hill.  The  snow  had  come 
earlier  than  usual,  and  this  old  bear  hadn't  got 
into  his  den  for  his  winter's  sleep.  A  lot  of  us 
started  out  after  him.  The  hill  was  covered  with 
beech  trees,  and  he'd  been  living  all  the  fall  on 
the  nuts,  till  he'd  got  as  fat  as  butter.  We  took 
dogs  and  worried  him,  and  ran  him  from  one 
place  to  another,  and  shot  at  him,  till  at  last  he 
dropped.  We  took  his  meat  home,  and  had  his 
skin  tanned  for  a  sleigh  robe. 

"One  day  I  was  in  the  woods,  and  looking 


2l6' 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


II 


through  the  trees  espied  a  bear.  He  was  stand- 
ing up  on  his  hind  legs,  snuffing  in  every  direction, 
and  just  about  the  time  I  espied  him,  he  espied 
me.  I  had  no  dog  and  no  gun,  so  I  thought  I 
had  better  be  getting  home  to  my  dinner.  I  was 
a  small  boy  then,  and  the  bear,  probably  thinking 
I'd  be  a  mouthful  for  him  anyway,  began  to  come 
after  me  in  a  leisurely  way.  I  can  see  myself 
now  going  through  those  woods — hat  gone,  jacket 
flying,  arms  out,  eyes  rolling  over  my  shoulder 
every  little  while  to  see  if  the  bear  was  gaining  on 
me.  jHe  was  a  benevolent-looking  old  fellow, 
and  his  face  seemed  to  say,  '  Don't  hurry,  little 
boy.'  He  wasn't  doing  his  prettiest,  and  I  soon 
got  away  from  him,  but  I  made  up  my  mind  then, 
that  it  was  more  fun  to  be  the  chaser  than  the 
chased. 

"  Another  time  I  was  out  in  our  cornfield,  and 
hearing  a  rustling,  looked  through  the  stalks,  and 
saw  a  brown  bear  with  two  cubs.  She  was  slash- 
ing down  the  corn  with  her  paws  to  get  at  the 
ears.  She  smelled  me,  and  getting  frightened, 
began  to  run.  I  had  a  dog  with  me  this  time, 
and  shouted  and  rapped  on  the  fence,  and  set 
him  on  her.  He  jumped  up  and  snapped  at  her 
flanks,  and  every  few  instants  she'd  turn  and  give 
him  a  cuff,  that  would  send  him  yards  away.  I 
followed  her  up,  and  just  back  of  the  farm  she 
and  her  cubs  took  into  a  tree.  I  sent  my  dog 
home,  and  my  father  and  some  of  the  neighbors 
came.  It  had  gotten  dark  by  this  time(  so  we 
built  a  fire  under  the  tree,  and  watched  all  night, 


I 


and 
mor 
and 
dow 
wak 
wat< 
coul 
beai 
dow 

Lau 


I 


"bi 

bea 

that 

is  V 

no 

folk 

and 

one 

No; 

or  ; 

diff 


^ 


TRAPPING   WILD   ANIMALS 


217 


i  and  told  stories  to  keep  each  other  awake.  Toward 

morning  we  got  sleepy,  and  the  fire  burnt  low, 
and  didn't  that  old  bear  and  one  cub  drop  right 
down  among  us  and  start  off  to  the  woods.  That 
waked  us  up.  We  built  up  the  fire  and  kept 
watch,  so  that  the  one  cub,  still  in  the  tree, 
couldn't  get  away.  Until  daylight  the  mother 
bear  hung  around,  calling  to  the  cub  to  come 
down." 

"Did  you  let  it  go,  uncle?"  asked  Miss 
Laura. 

'  *  No,  my  dear,  we  shot  it. '  * 

"  How  cruel  !  "  cried  Mrs.  Wood. 

' '  Yes,  weren't  we  brutes  ? ' '  said  her  husband  ; 
"but  there  was  some  excuse  for  us,  Hattie.  The 
bears  ruined  our  farms.  This  kind  of  hunting 
that  hunts  and  kills  for  the  mere  sake  of  slaughter 
is  very  different  from  that.  I'll  tell  you  what  I've 
no  patience  with,  and  that's  with  these  English 
folks  that  dress  themselvtis  up,  and  take  fine  horses 
and  packs  of  dogs,  and  tear  over  the  country  after 
one  little  fox  or  rabbit.  Bah,  it's  contemptible. 
Now  if  they  were  hunting  cruel,  man-eating  tigers, 
or  animals  that  destroy  property,  it  would  be  a 
different  thing. " 


CHAPTER  XXIV 


THE   RABBIT   AND   THE   HEN 


\ 


OU  had  foxes  up  in  Maine,  I  suppose, 
Mr.  Wood,  hadn't  you?"  asked  Mr. 
Maxwell. 

' '  Heaps  of  them.  I  always  want  to  laugh  when 
I  think  of  our  foxes,  for  they  were  so  cute.  Never 
a  fox  did  I  catch  in  a  trap,  though  I'd  set  many  a 
one.  I '  d  take  the  carcass  of  some  creature  that  had 
died,  a  sheep,  for  instance,  and  put  it  in  a  field  near 
the  woods,  and  the  foxes  would  come  and  eat  it. 
After  they  got  accustomed  to  come  and  eat  and  no 
harm  befell  them ,  they  would  be  unsuspecting.  So 
just  before  a  snowstorm,  I'd  take  a  trap  and  put  it 
in  this  spot.  I'd  handle  it  with  gloves,  and  I'd 
smoke  it,  and  rub  fir  boughs  on  it  to  take  away  the 
human  smell,  and  then  the  snow  would  come  and 
cover  it  up,  and  yet  those  foxes  would  know  it  was 
a  trap  and  walk  all  around  it.  It' s  a  wonderful 
thing,  that  sense  of  smell  in  animals,  if  it  is  a  sense 
of  smell.      Joe  here  has  got  a  good  bit  of  it." 

"What  kind   of  traps   were   they,   father?" 
asked  Mr.  Harry. 

"Cruel  ones — steel   ones.     They'd  catch  an 

3X8 


THE  RABBIT  AND  THE  HEN 


219 


\ 


animal  by  the  leg  and  sometimes  break  the  bone. 
The  leg  would  bleed,  and  below  the  jaws  of 
the  trap  it  would  freeze,  there  being  no  circula- 
tion of  the  blood.  Those  steel  traps  are  an  abomi- 
nation. The  people  around  here  use  one  made  on 
the  same  principle  for  catching  rats.  I  wouldn't 
have  them  on  my  place  for  any  money.  I  believe 
we've  got  to  give  an  account  for  all  the  unneces- 
sary suffering  we  put  on  animals." 

"You'll  have  some  to  answer  for,  John,  ac- 
cording to  your  own  story, ' '  said  Mrs.  Wood. 

"  I  have  suffered  already,"  he  said.  "  Many 
a  night  I've  lain  on  my  bed  and  groaned,  when  I 
thought  of  needless  cruelties  I'd  put  upon  animals 
when  I  was  a  young,  unthinking  boy — and  I  was 
pretty  carefully  brought  up,  too,  according  to  our 
light  in  those  days.  I  often  thinic  that  if  I  was 
cruel,  with  all  the  instruction  I  had  to  be  merciful, 
what  can  be  expected  of  the  children  that  get  no 
good  teaching  at  all  when  they're  young." 

"Tell  us  some  more  about  the  foxes,  Mr. 
Wood,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 

' '  Well,  we  used  to  have  rare  sport  hunting  them 
with  fox-hounds.  I'd  often  go  off  for  the  day  with 
my  hounds.  Sometimes  in  the  early  morning 
they'd  find  a  track  in  the  snow.  The  leader  for 
scent  would  go  back  and  forth,  to  find  out  which 
way  the  fox  was  going.  I  can  see  him  now.  All 
the  time  that  he  ran,  now  one  way  and  now  another 
on  the  track  of  the  fox,  he  was  silent,  but  kept  his 
tail  aloft,  wagging  it  as  a  signal  to  the  hounds  be- 
hind.    He  was  leader  in  scent,  but  he  did  not  like 


220 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


bloody,  dangerous  fights.     By-and-by,  he  would 
decide  which  way  the  fox  had  gone.     Then  his 
tail,  still  kept  high  in  the  air,  would  wag  more 
violently.     The  rest  followed  him  in  single  file, 
going  pretty  slow,  so  as  to  enable  us  to  keep  up  to 
them.     By-and-by,  they  would  come  to  a  place 
where  the  fox  was  sleeping  for  the  day.  'As  soon  as 
he  was  disturbed  he  would  leave  his  bed  under  some 
thick  fir  or  spruce  branches  near  the  ground.  This 
flung  his  fresh  scent  into  the  air.     As  soon  as  the 
hounds  sniffed  it,  they  gave  tongue  in  good  earnest. 
It  w^s  a  mixed,  deep  baying,  that  made  the  blood 
quicken  in  my  veins.     While  in  the  excitement  of 
his  first  fright,  the  fox  would  run  fast  for  a  mile  or 
two,  till  he  found  it  an  easy  matter  to  keep  out  of 
the  way  of  the  hounds.     Then  he,  cunning  crea- 
ture,  would   begin   to   bother  them.     He  would 
mount  to  the  top  pole  of  the  worm  fence  dividing 
the  fields  from  the  woods.     He  could  trot  along 
here  quite  a  distance  and  then  make  a  long  jump 
into  the  woods.     The  hounds  would  come  up,  but 
could  not  walk  the  fence,  and  they  would  have 
difficulty  in  finding  where  the  fox  had  left  it.    Then 
we  saw  generalship.     The  hounds  scattered  in  all 
directions,  and  made  long  detours  into  the  woods 
and  fields.      As  soon  as  the  track  was  lost,  they 
ceased  to  bay,  but  the  instant  a  hound  found  it 
again,  he  bayed  to  give  the  signal  to  the  others. 
All  would  hurry  to  the  spot,  and  off  they  would  go 
baying  as  they  went. 

"Then  Mr.  Fox  would  try  a  new  trick.     He 
would  climb  a  leaning  tree,  and  then  jump  to  the 


THE   RABBIT   AND   THE   HEN 


221 


ground.     This  trick   would   soon   be  found  out. 
Then  he'd  try  another.     He  would  make  a  circle 
of  a  quarter  of  a  mile  in  circumference.     By  mak- 
ing a  loop  in  his  course,  he  would  come  in  behind 
the  hounds,  and  puzzle  them  between  the  scent  of 
his  first  and  following  tracks.     If  the  snow  was 
deep,  the  hounds  had  made  a  good  track  for  him. 
Over  this  he  could  run  easily,  and  they  would 
have  to  feel  their  way  along,  for  after  he  had  gone 
around  the    circle  a  few  times,  he  would  jump 
from  the  beaten  path  as  far  as  he  could,  and  make 
off  to  other  cover  in  a  straight  line.     Before  this 
was  done  it  was  my  plan  to  get  near  the  circle, 
taking  care  to  approach  it  on  the  windward  side. 
If  the  fox  got  a  sniff  of  human  scent,  he  would 
leave  his  circle  very  quickly,  and  make  tracks  fast 
to  be  out  of  danger.     By  the  baying  of  the  hounds, 
the  circle  in  which  the  race  was  kept  up  could  be 
easily  known.     The  last  runs  to  get  near  enough 
to  shoot  had  to  be  done  when  the  hounds'  baying 
came  from  the  side  of  the  circle  nearest  to  me. 
For  then  the  fox  would  be  on  the  opposite  side 
farthest  away.     As  soon  as  I  got  near  enough  to 
see  the   hounds   when   they   passed,   I   stopped. 
When  they  got  on  the  opposite  side,  I  then  kept  a 
bright  lookout  for  the  fox.     Sometimes  when  the 
brush  was  thick,  the  sight  of  him  would  be  indis- 
tinct.    The  shooting  had  to  be  quick.     As  soon  as 
the  report  of  the  gun  was  heard,  the  hounds  ceased 
to  bay,  and  made  for  the  spot.     If  the  fox  was 
dead,  they  enjoyed  the  scent  of  his  blood.     If 
only  wounded,  they  went  after  him  with  all  speed. 


2^2 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Sometimes  he  was  overtaken  and  killed,  and  some- 
times he  got  into  his  burrow  in  the  earth,  or  in  a 
hollow  log,  or  among  tne  rocks. 

"One  day,  I  remember,  when  I  was  standing 
on  the  outside  of  the  circle,  the  fox  came  in  sight. 
I  fired.  He  gave  a  shrill  bark,  and  came  toward 
me.  Then  he  stopped  in  the  snow  and  fell  dead 
in  his  tracks.  I  was  a  pretty  good  shot  in  those 
days. ' ' 

"Poor  little  fox,"  said  Miss  Laura.  "  I  wish 
you  had  let  him  get  away." 

"  Here's  one  that  nearly  got  away,"  said  Mr. 
Wo6d.  "One  winter's  day,  I  was  chasing  him 
with  the  hounds.  There  was  a  crust  on  the  snow, 
and  the  fox  was  light,  while  the  dogs  were  heavy. 
They  ran  along,  the  fox  trotting  nimbly  on  the  top 
of  the  crust  and  the  dogs  breaking  through,  and 
every  few  minutes  that  fox  would  stop  and  sit  down 
to  look  at  the  dogs.  They  were  in  a  fury,  and  the 
wickedness  of  the  fox  in  teasing  them,  made  me 
laugh  so  much  that  I  was  very  unwilling  to  shoot 
him." 

"You  said  your  steel  traps  were  cruel  things, 
uncle, ' '  said  Miss  Laura.  ♦ '  Why  didn't  you  have 
a  deadfall  for  the  foxes  as  you  had  for  the  bears  ? ' ' 

' '  They  were  too  cunning  to  go  into  deadfalls. 
There  was  a  better  way  to  catch  them,  though. 
Foxes  hate  water,  and  never  go  into  it  unless  they 
are  obliged  to,  so  we  used  to  find  a  place  where  a 
tree  had  fallen  across  a  river,  and  made  a  bridge 

for   them  tn  o-n    V»nrlr  anrl     fnrfh  r»n  "HT *»»-<»    xtro.  cof- 

snares,  with  spring  poles  that  would  throw  them 


THE  RABBIT  AND  THE  HEN 


223 


into  the  river  when  they  made  struggles  to  get  free, 
and  drown  them.  Did  you  ever  hear  of  the  fox, 
Laura,  that  wanted  to  cross  a  river,  and  lay  down 
on  the  bank  pretending  that  he  was  dead,  and  a 
countryman  came  along,  and,  thinking  he  had  a 
prize,  threw  him  in  his  boat  and  rowed  across, 
when  the  fox  got  up  and  ran  away  ? ' ' 

"Now,  uncle,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "you're 
laughing  at  me.     That  couldn't  be  true." 

"No,  no,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  chuckling  ;  "but 
they're  mighty  cute  at  pretending  they're  dead. 
I  once  shot  one  in  the  morning,  carried  him  a  long 
way  on  my  shoulders,  and  started  to  skin  him  in 
the  afternoon,  when  he  turned  around  and  bit  me 
enough  to  draw  blood.  At  another  time  I  dug  one 
out  of  a  hole  in  the  ground.  He  feigned  death. 
I  took  him  up  and  threw  him  down  at  some  dis- 
tance, and  he  jumped  up  and  ran  into  the  woods." 

' '  What  other  animals  did  you  catch  when  you 
were  a  boy  ? ' '  asked  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"Oh,  a  number.  Otters  and  beavers — we 
caught  them  in  deadfalls  and  in  steel  traps.  The 
mink  we  usually  took  in  deadfalls,  smaller,  of 
course,  than  the  ones  we  used  for  the  bears.  The 
musk-rat  we  caught  in  box  traps  like  a  mouse  trap. 
The  wild-cat  we  ran  down  like  the  /oup  cervier ' ' 

' '  What  kind  of  an  animal  is  that  ? ' '  asked  Mr. 
Maxwell. 

"It  is  a  lynx,  belonging  to  the  cat  species. 
They  used  to  prowl  about  the  country  killing  hens, 
geese,  and  sometimes  sheep.  They'd  fix  their 
tushes  in  the  sheep's  neck  and  suck  the  blood. 


2^4 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


They  did  not  think  much  of  the  sheep's  flesh.  We 
ran  them  down  with  dogs.  They'd  often  run  up 
trees,  and  we'd  shoot  them.  Then  there  -were 
rabbits  that  we  caught,  mostly  in  snares.  For 
musk-rats,  we'd  jJut  a  parsnip  or  an  apple  on  the 
spindle  of  a  box  trap.  When  we  snared  a  rabbit, 
I  always  wanted  to  find  it  caught  around  the  neck 
and  strangled  to  death.  If  they  got  half  through 
the  snare  and  were  caught  around  the  body,  or  by 
the  hind  legs,  they'd  live  for  some  time,  and  they'd 
cry  just  like  a  child.  I  like  shooting  them  better, 
justj  because  I  hated  to  hear  their  pitiful  cries. 
It's  a  bad  business  this  of  killing  dumb  creatures, 
and  the  older  I  get,  the  more  chicken-hearted  I 
am  about  it. ' ' 

' '  Chicken-hearted — I  should  think  you  are, '  * 
said  Mrs.  Wood.  "Do  you  know,  Laura,  he 
won't  even  kill  a  fowl  for  dinner.  He  gives  it  to 
one  of  the  men  to  do. " 

' '  Blessed  are  the  merciful, ' '  said  Miss  Laura, 
throwing  her  arm  over  her  uncle's  shoulder.  "I 
love  you,  dear  Uncle  John,  because  you  are  so 
kind  to  every  living  thing. ' ' 

"I'm  going  to  be  kind  to  you  now,"  said 
her  uncle,  "and  send  you  to  bed.  You  look 
tired." 

"Very  well,"  she  said,  with  a  smile.  Then 
bidding  them  all  good-night,  she  went  upstairs. 
Mr.  Wood  turned  to  Mr.  Maxwell.  "You're 
going  to  stay  all  night  with  us,  aren't  you  ?  " 

ii  c^  TViT —    \xr J ' » i:_  J  xi 

kjl>  iTxiD.  vvuuu  aays,     icpiicu  uic  youiig  man, 

with  a  smile. 


THE   RABBIT   AND   THE    HEN 


225 


"  Of  course,"  she  said.  ••  I  couldn't  think  of 
letting  you  go  back  to  the  village  such  a  night  as 
this.  It's  raining  cats  and  dogs — but  I  mustn't 
say  that,  or  there'll  be  no  getting  you  to  stay.  I'll 
go  and  prepare  your  old  room  next  to  Harry's." 
And  she  bustled  away. 

The  two  young  men  went  to  the  pantry  for 
doughnuts  and  milk,  and  Mr.  Wood  stood  gazing 
down  at  me.  "Good  dog,"  he  said  ;  "  you  look 
as  if  you  sensed  that  talk  to-night.  Come,  get  a 
bont ,  and  then  away  to  bed. ' ' 

He  gave  me  a  very  large  mutton  bone,  and  I 
held  it  in  my  mouth,  and  watched  him  opening  the 
woodshed  door.  I  love  human  beings  ;  and  the 
saddest  time  of  day  for  me  is  when  I  have  to  be 
separated  from  them  while  they  sleep. 

"  Now,  go  to  bed  and  rest  well,  Beautiful  Joe," 
said  Mr.  Wood,  "and  if  you  hear  any  stranger 
round  the  house,  run  out  and  bark.  Don't  be 
chasing  wild  animals  in  your  sleep,  though.  They 
say  a  dog  is  the  only  animal  that  dreams.  I  won- 
der whether  it's  true  ?"  Then  he  went  into  the 
house  and  shut  the  door. 

I  had  a  sheepskin  to  lie  on,  and  a  very  good 
bed  it  made.  I  slept  soundly  for  a  long  time  ;  then 
I  waked  up  and  found  that,  instead  of  rain  patter- 
ing against  the  roof,  and  darkness  everywhere,  it 
was  quite  light.  The  rain  was  over,  and  the  moon 
was  shining  beautifully.  I  ran  to  the  door  and 
looked  out.  It  was  almost  as  light  as  day.  The 
moon  made  it  very  bright  all  around  the  house  and 
farm  buildings,  and  I  could  look  all  about  and  see 

IS 


226 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


that  there  was  no  one  stirring.  I  took  a  turn  around 
the  yard,  and  walked  around  to  the  side  of  the 
house,  to  glance  up  at  Miss  Laura's  window.  I 
always  did  this  several  times  through  the  night,  just 
to  see  if  she  was  quite  safe.  I  was  on  my  way  back 
to  my  bed,  when  I  saw  two  small,  white  things  mov- 
ing away  down  the  lane.  I  stood  on  the  veranda 
and  watched  them.  When  they  got  nearer,  I  saw 
that  there  was  a  white  rabbit  hopping  up  the  road, 
followed  by  a  white  hen. 

It  seemed  to  me  a  very  strange  thing  for  these 
creatures  to  be  out  this  time  of  night,  and  why  were 
they  coming  to  Dingley  Farm  ?  This  wasn't  their 
home.  I  ran  down  on  the  road  and  stood  in  front 
of  them. 

Just  as  soon  as  the  hen  saw  me,  she  fluttered 
in  front  of  the  rabbit,  and,  spreading  out  her 
wings,  clucked  angrily,  and  acted  as  if  she  would 
peck  my  eyes  out  if  I  came  nearer. 

I  saw  that  they  were  harmless  creatures,  and, 
remembering  my  adventure  with  the  snake,  I 
stepped  aside.  Besides  that,  I  knew  by  their  smell 
that  they  had  been  near  Mr.  Maxwell,  so  perhaps 
they  were  after  him. 

They  understood  quite  well  that  I  would  not 
hurt  them,  and  passed  by  me.  The  rabbit  went 
ahead  again  and  the  hen  fell  behind.  It  seemed 
to  me  that  the  hen  was  sleepy,  and  didn't  like  to 
be  out  so  late  at  night,  and  was  only  following  the 
rabbit  because  she  thought  it  was  her  duty. 

He  was  going  along  in  a  very  queer  fashion, 
putting  his  nose  to  the  ground,  and  rising  up  on 


? 


I 


iround 
of  the 

DW.       I 

ht,  just 
y  back 
s  mov- 
eranda 
,  I  saw 
;  road, 

r  these 
y  were 
't  their 
n  front 

uttered 

)ut  her 

would 

s,  and, 
ake,  I 
r  smell 
)erhaps 

lid  not 
it  went 
>eemed 
like  to 
ing  the 

ashion, 
up  on 


THE   RABBIT    AND    THE    HEN 


227 


* 


his  hind  legs,  and  sniffing  the  air,  first  on  this  side 
and  then  on  the  other,  and  his  nose  going,  going 
all  the  time. 

He  smelled  all  around  the  house  till  he  came 
to  Mr.  Maxwell's  room  at  the  back.  It  opened 
on  the  veranda  by  a  glass  door,  and  the  door  stood 
ajar.  The  rabbit  squeezed  himself  in,  and  the  hen 
stayed  out.  She  watched  for  a  while,  and  when 
he  didn't  come  back,  she  flew  upon  the  back  of 
a  chair  that  stood  near  the  door,  and  put  her  head 
under  her  wing. 

I  went  back  to  my  bed,  for  I  knew  they  would 
do  no  harm.  Early  in  the  morning,  when  I  was 
walking  around  the  house,  I  heard  a  great  shout- 
ing and  laughing  from  Mr.  Maxwell's  room.  He 
and  Mr.  Harry  had  just  discovered  the  hen  and 
the  rabbit ;  and  Mr.  Harry  was  calling  his  mother 
to  come  and  look  at  them.  The  rabbit  had  slept 
on  the  foot  of  the  bed. 

Mr.  Harry  was  chaffing  Mr.  Maxwell  very 
much,  and  was  telling  him  that  any  one  who  en- 
tertained him  was  in  for  a  traveling  menagerie. 
They  had  a  great  deal  of  fun  over  it,  and  Mr. 
Maxwell  said  that  he  had  had  that  pretty,  white 
hen  as  a  pet  for  a  long  time  in  Boston.  Once 
when  she  had  some  little  chickens,  a  frightened 
rabbit,  that  was  being  chased  by  a  dog,  ran  into 
the  yard.  In  his  terror  he  got  right  under  the 
hen's  wings,  and  she  sheltered  him,  and  pecked 
at  the  dog's  eyes,  and  kept  him  off"  till  help  came. 
The  rabbit  belonged  to  a  neighbor's  boy,  and  Mr. 
Maxwell  bought  it  from  him.     From  the  day  the 


228 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


hen  protected  him,  she  became  his  friend,  and 
followed  him  everywhere. 

I  did  not  wonder  that  the  rabbit  wanted  to  see 
his  master.  There  was  something  about  that 
young  man  that  made  dumb  animals  just  delight 
in  him.  When  Mrs.  Wood  mentioned  this  to  hin? 
he  said,  "  I  don't  know  why  they  should — I  don' I 
do  anything  to  fascinate  them." 

••  You  love  them,"  she  said,  "  and  they  know 
it.     That  is  the  reason." 


CHAPTER  XXV 


A   HAPPY   HORSE 


JOR  a  good  while  after  I  went  to  Dingley 
Farm  I  was  very  shy  of  the  horses,  for 
I  was  afraid  they  might  kick  me,  think- 
ing that  I  was  a  bad  dog  Hke  Bruno.  However, 
they  all  had  such  good  faces,  and  looked  at  me  so 
kindly,  that  I  was  beginning  to  get  over  my  fear 
of  them. 

Fleetfoot,  Mr.  Harry's  colt,  was  my  favorite, 
and  one  afternoon,  when  Mr.  Harry  and  Miss 
Laura  were  going  out  to  see  him,  I  followed  them. 
Fleetfoot  was  amusing  himself  by  rolling  over  and 
over  on  the  grass  under  a  tree,  but  when  he  saw 
Mr.  Harry,  he  gave  a  shrill  whinny,  and  running 
to  him,  began  nosing  about  his  pockets. 

"Wait  a  bit,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  holding  him 
by  the  forelock.  "  Let  me  introduce  you  to  this 
young  lady,  Miss  Laura  Morris.  I  want  you  to 
make  her  a  bow."  He  gave  the  colt  some  sign, 
and  immediately  he  began  to  paw  the  ground  and 
shake  his  head. 

Mr.  Harry  laughed  and  went  on  :    "  Here  is 

I    want    you   to   like   him,    too. 

8B9 


her   dog   Joe. 


230 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


it     ! 


Come  here,  Joe."  I  was  not  at  all  afraid,  for  I 
knew  Mr.  Harry  would  not  let  him  hurt  me,  so  I 
stood  in  front  of  him,  and  for  the  first  time  had  a 
good  look  at  him.  They  called  him  the  colt,  but 
he  was  really  a  full-grown  horse,  and  had  already 
been  put  to  work.  He  was  of  a  dark  chestnut 
color,  and  had  a  well-shaped  body  and  a  long, 
handsome  head,  and  I  never  saw,  in  the  head  of  a 
man  or  beast,  a  more  beautiful  pair  of  eyes  than 
that  colt  had — large,  full,  brown  eyes  they  were 
that  he  turned  on  me  almost  as  a  person  would. 
He  looked  me  all  over  as  if  to  say  :  "  Are  you  a 
good  dog,  and  will  you  treat  me  kindly,  or  are  you 
a  bad  one  like  Bruno,  and  will  you  chase  me  and 
snap  at  my  heels  and  worry  me,  so  that  I  shall 
want  to  kick  you  ?  " 

I  looked  at  him  very  earnestly  and  wagged  my 
body,  and  lifted  myself  on  my  hind  legs  toward 
him.  He  seemed  pleased  and  put  down  his  nose 
to  sniff  at  me,  and  then  we  were  friends.  Friends, 
and  such  good  friends,  for  next  to  Jim  and  Billy, 
I  have  loved  Fleetfoot. 

Mr.  Harry  pulled  some  lumps  of  sugar  out  of 
his  pocket,  and  giving  them  to  Miss  Laura,  told 
her  to  put  them  on  the  palm  of  her  hand  and  hold 
it  out  flat  toward  Fleetfoot.  The  colt  ate  the 
sugar,  and  all  the  time  eyed  her  with  his  quiet, 
observing  glance,  that  made  her  exclaim  :  "What 
a  wise-looking  colt ! ' ' 

"  He  is  like  an  old  horse,"  said  Mr.  Harry. 
"When  he  hears  a  sudden  noi':e,  he  stops  and 
looks  all  about  him  to  find  an  explanation." 


A    HAPPY    HORSE 


231 


.  for  I 
s,  so  I 
had  a 
)lt,  but 
ilready 
lestnut 
L  long, 
ad  of  a 
IS  than 
y  were 
would, 
you  a 
ire  you 
ne  and 
I  shall 

jed  my 
toward 
is  nose 
riends, 
I  Billy. 

•  out  of 
ra,  told 
id  hold 
ate  the 
5  quiet, 
"What 

Harry. 
>ps  and 


••  He  has  been  well  trained,"  said  Miss  Laura. 

"  I  have  brought  him  up  carefully,"  said  Mr. 
Harry.  ' '  Really,  he  has  been  treated  more  like  a 
dog  than  a  colt.  He  follows  me  about  the  farm 
and  smells  everything  I  handle,  and  seems  to 
want  to  know  the  reason  of  things." 

"Your  mother  says,"  replied  Miss  Laura, 
• '  that  she  found  you  both  asleep  on  the  lawn  one 
day  last  summer,  and  the  colt's  head  was  on  your 
arm." 

Mr.  Harry  smiled  and  threw  his  arm  over  the 
colt's  neck.  "We've  been  comrades,  haven't 
we,  Fleetfoot?  I've  been  almost  ashamed  of  his 
devotion.  He  has  followed  me  to  the  village,  and 
he  always  wants  to  go  fishing  with  me.  He's  four 
years  old  now,  so  he  ought  to  get  over  those  coltish 
ways.  I've  driven  him  a  good  deal.  We're 
going  out  in  the  buggy  this  afternoon,  will  you 
come  ? ' ' 

"Where  are  you  going  ? "   asked  Miss  Laura. 

' '  Just  for  a  short  drive  back  of  the  river,  to 
collect  some  money  for  father.  I'll  be  home  long 
before  tea  time. ' ' 

' '  Yes,  I  should  like  to  go, ' '  said  Miss  Laura. 
"  I  will  go  to  the  house  and  get  my  other  hat." 

"  Come  on,  Fleetfoot,"  said  Mr.  Harry.  And 
he  led  the  way  from  the  pasture,  the  colt  following 
behind  with  me.  I  waited  about  the  veranda,  and 
in  a  short  time  Mr.  Harry  drove  up  to  the  front 
door.  The  buggy  was  black  and  shining,  and 
Fleetfoot  had  on  a  silver-mounted  harness  that 
made  him  look  very  fine.    He  stood  gently  switch- 


^32 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


# 


ing  his  long  tail  to  keep  the  flies  away,  and  with 
his  head  turned  to  see  who  was  going  to  get  into 
the  buggy.  I  stood  by  him,  and  as  soon  as  he 
saw  that  Miss  Laura  and  Mr.  Harry  had  seated 
themselves,  he  acted  as  if  he  wanted  to  be  off. 
Mr.  Harry  spoke  to  him  and  away  he  went,  I  rac- 
ing down  the  lane  by  his  side,  so  happy  to 
think  he  was  my  friend.  He  liked  having  me 
beside  him,  and  every  few  seconds  put  down  his 
head  toward  me.  Animals  can  tell  each  other 
things  without  saying  a  word.  When  Fleetfoot 
gave  his  head  a  little  toss  in  a  certain  way,  I  knew 
that  he  wanted  to  have  a  race.  He  had  a  beauti- 
ful even  gait,  and  went  very  swiftly.  Mr.  Harry 
kept  speaking  to  him  to  check  him. 

"  You  don't  like  him  to  go  too  fast,  do  you  ?  " 
said  Miss  Laura. 

* '  No, ' '  he  returned.  * '  I  think  we  could  make 
a  racer  of  him  if  we  liked,  but  father  and  I  don't 
go  in  for  fast  horses.  There  is  too  much  said 
about  fast  trotters  and  race  horses.  On  some  of 
the  farms  around  here,  the  people  have  gone  mad 
on  breeding  fast  horses.  An  old  farmer  out  in  the 
country  had  a  common  cart-horse  that  he  suddenly 
found  out  had  great  powers  of  speed  and  endur- 
ance. He  sold  him  to  a  speculator  for  a  big  price, 
and  it  has  set  everybody  wild.  If  the  people  who 
give  all  their  time  to  it  can't  raise  fast  horses,  I 
don't  see  how  the  farmers  can.  A  fast  horse  on  a 
farm  is  ruination  to  the  boys,  for  it  starts  them 
racing  and  betting.  Father  says  he  is  going  to 
offer  a  prize  for  the  fastest  walker  that  can  be  bred 


A    HAPPY    HORSE 


233 


?'♦ 


in  New  Hampshire.  That  Dutchman  of  ours, 
heavy  as  he  is,  is  a  fair  walker,  and  Cleve  and 
Pacer  can  each  walk  four  and  a  half  miles  an  hour. ' ' 

"  Why  do  you  lay  such  stress  on  their  walking 
fast  ? ' '  asked  Miss  Laura. 

"  Because  so  much  of  the  farm  work"  must  be 
done  at  a  walk.     Ploughing,  teaming,  and  draw- 
ing produce  to  market,  and  going  up  and  down 
hills.     Even  for  the  cities  it  is  good  to  have  fast 
walkers.     Trotting  on  city  pavements  is  very  hard 
on  the  dray  horses.     If  they  are  allowed  to  go  at 
a  quick  walk,  their  legs  will  keep  strong  much 
longer.     It  is  shameful  the  way  horses  are  used  up 
in  big  cities.     Our  pavements  are  so  bad  that  cab 
horses  are  used  up  in  three  years.     In  many  ways 
we  are  a  great  deal  better  off  in  this  new  country 
than  the  people  in   Europe  ;  but  we  are  not  in 
respect  of  cab  horses,  for  in  London  and  Paris 
they  last  for  five  years.     I  have  seen  horses  drop 
down  dead  in  New  York  just  from  hard  usage. 
Poor  brutes,  there  is  a  better  time  coming  for  them 
though.    When  electricity  is  more  fully  developed, 
we'll  see  some  wonderful  changes.     As  it  is,  last 
year   in   different   places,   about   thirty   thousand 
horses  were  released  from  those  abominable  horse 
cars,  by  having  electricity  introduced  on  the  roads. 
Well,  Fleetfoot,  do  you  want  another  spin  ?     All 
right,  my  boy,  go  ahead. ' ' 

Away  we  went  again  along  a  bit  of  level  road. 
Fleetfoot  had  no  check-rein  on  his  beautiful  neck, 
and  when  he  trotted,  he  could  hold  his  head  in  an 
easy,  natural  position.     With  his  wonderful  eyes 


^34 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


II    .' 


h  m 


and  flowing  mane  and  tail,  and  his  glossy,  reddish- 
brown  body,  I  thought  that  he  was  the  handsomest 
horse  I  had  ever  seen.  He  loved  to  go  fast,  and 
when  Mr.  Harry  spoke  to  him  to  slow  up  again,  he 
tossed  his  head  with  impatience.  But  he  was  too 
sweet-tempered  to  disobey.  In  all  the  years  that 
I  have  known  Fleetfoot,  I  have  never  once  seen 
him  refuse  to  do  as  his  master  told  him. 

"You  have  forgotten  your  whip,  haven't  you 
Harry?"  I  heard  Miss  Laura  say,  as  we  jogged 
slowly  along,  and  I  ran  by  the  buggy  panting  and 
wiljh  my  tongue  hanging  out. 

"I  never  use  one,"  said  Mr.  Harry;  "  if  I 
saw  any  man  lay  one  on  Fleetfoot,  I'd  knock  him 
down."  His  voice  was  so  severe  that  I  glanced 
up  into  the  buggy.  He  looked  just  as  he  did 
the  day  that  he  stretched  Jenkins  on  the  ground, 
and  gave  him  a  beating. 

"I  am  so  glad  you  don't,"  said  Miss  Laura. 
• '  You  are  like  the  Russians.  Many  of  them  con- 
trol their  horses  by  their  voices,  and  call  them 
such  pretty  names.  But  you  have  to  use  a  whip 
for  some  horses,  don't  you,  Cousin  Harry  ?" 

' '  Yes,  Laura.  There  are  many  vicious  horses 
that  can't  be  controlled  otherwise,  and  then  with 
many  horses  one  requires  a  whip  in  case  of  neces- 
sity for  urging  them  forward. 

' '  I  suppose  Fleetfoot  never  balks, ' '  said  Miss 
Laura. 

"  No,"  repHed  Mr.  Harry  ;  "  Dutchman  some- 
times does,  and  we  have  two  cures  for  him,  both 
equally  good.     We  take  up  a  forefoot  and  strike 


A    HAPPY    HORSE 


235 


his  shoe  two  or  three  times  with  a  stone.  The 
operation  always  interests  him  greatly,  and  he 
usually  starts.  If  he  doesn't  go  for  that,  we  pass 
a  line  round  his  forelegs,  at  the  knee  joint,  then  go 
in  front  of  him  and  draw  on  the  line.  Father 
won't  let  the  men  use  a  whip,  unless  they  are 
driven  to  it." 

"  Fleetfoot  has  had  a  happy  life,  hasn't  he  ?  " 
said  Miss  Laura,  looking  admiringly  at  him. 
"  How  did  he  get  to  like  you  so  much,  Harry  ?  " 

"  I  broke  him  in  after  a  fashion  of  my  own. 
Father  gave  him  to  me,  and  the  first  time  I  saw 
him  on  his  feet,  I  went  up  carefully  and  put  my 
hand  on  him.  His  mother  was  rather  shy  of  me, 
for  we  hadn't  had  her  long,  and  it  made  him  shy 
too,  so  I  soon  left  him.  The  next  time  I  stroked 
him  ;  the  next  time  I  put  my  arm  around  him. 
Soon  he  acted  like  a  big  dog.  I  could  lead  him 
about  by  a  strap,  and  I  made  a  little  halter  and 
a  bridle  for  him.  I  didn't  see  why  I  shouldn't 
train  him  a  little  while  he  was  young  and  manage  - 
able.  I  think  it  is  cruel  to  let  colts  run  till  one 
has  to  employ  severity  in  mastering  them.  Of 
course,  I  did  not  let  him  do  much  work.  Colts  are 
like  boys — a  boy  shouldn't  do  a  man's  work,  but 
he  had  exercise  every  day,  and  I  trained  him  to 
draw  a  light  cart  behind  him.  I  used  to  do  all 
kinds  of  things  to  accustom  him  to  unusual  sounds. 
Father  talked  a  good  deal  to  me  about  Rarey,  the 
great  horse-tamer,  and  it  put  ideas  into  my  head. 
He  said  he  once  saw  Rarey  come  on  a  stage  in 
Boston  with  a  timid  horse  that  he  was  going  to 


236 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


I  h 


accustom  to  a  loud  noise.  First  a  bugle  was  blown, 
then  some  louder  instrument,  and  so  on,  till  there 
was  a  whole  brass  band  going.  Rarey  reassured 
the  animal,  and  it  was  not  afraid." 

"You  like  horses  better  than  any  other  ani- 
mals, don't  you,  Harry?"  asked  Miss  Laura. 

"  I  believe  I  do,  though  I  am  very  fond  of  that 
dog  of  yours.  I  think  I  know  more  about  horses 
than  dogs.   Have  you  noticed  Scamp  very  much  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  yes  ;  I  often  watched  her.  She  is  such 
an  amusing  little  creature." 

j"  She's  the  most  interesting  one  we've  got,  that 
is,  after  Fleetfoot.  Father  got  her  from  a  man 
who  couldn't  manage  her,  and  she  came  to  us  with 
a  legion  of  bad  tricks.  Father  has  taken  solid 
comfort  though,  in  breaking  her  of  them.  She  is 
his  pet  among  our  stock.  I  suppose  you  know 
that  horses,  more  than  any  other  animals,  are 
creatures  of  habit.  If  they  do  a  thing  once,  they 
will  do  it  again.  When  she  came  to  us,  she  had 
a  trick  of  biting  at  a  person  who  gave  her  oats. 
She  would  do  it  without  fail,  so  father  put  a  little 
stick  under  his  arm,  and  every  time  she  would  bite, 
he  would  give  her  a  rap  over  the  nose.  She  soon 
got  tired  of  biting,  and  gave  it  up.  Sometimes 
now,  you'll  see  her  make  a  snap  at  father  as  if  she 
was  going  to  bite,  and  then  look  under  his  arm  to 
see  if  the  stick  is  there.  He  cured  some  of  her 
tricks  in  one  way,  and  some  in  another.  One  bad 
one  she  had  was  to  start  for  the  stable  the  minute 
one  of  the  traces  was  unfastened  when  we  were 
unharnessing.     She  pulled  father  over  once,  and 


A    HAPPY    HORSE 


237 


another  time  she  ran  the  shaft  of  the  sulky  clean 
through  the  barn  door.  The  next  time  father 
brought  her  in,  he  got  ready  for  her.  He  twisted  the 
lines  around  his  hands,  and  the  minute  .she  began 
to  bolt,  he  gave  a  tremendous  jerk,  that  pulled 
her  back  upon  her  haunches,  and  shouted, '  Whoa!' 
It  cured  her,  and  she  never  started  again,  till  he 
gave  her  the  word.  Often  now,  you'll  see  her 
throw  her  head  back  when  she  is  being  unhitched. 
He  only  did  it  once,  yet  she  remembers.  If  we'd 
had  the  training  of  Scamp,  she'd  be  a  very  differ- 
ent animal.  It's  nearly  all  in  the  bringing  up  of  a 
colt,  whether  it  will  turn  out  vicious  or  gentle.  If 
any  one  were  to  strike  Fleetfoot,  he  would  not 
know  what  it  meant.  He  has  been  brought  up 
differently  from  Scamp. 

"She  was  probably  trained  by  some  brutal 
man  who  inspired  her  with  distrust  of  the  human 
species.  She  never  bites  an  animal,  and  seems 
attached  to  all  the  other  horses.  She  loves 
Fleetfoot  and  Cleve  and  Pacer.  Those  three  are 
her  favorites." 

"I  love  to  go  for  drives  with  Cleve  and 
Pacer,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "  they  are  so  steady  and 
good.  Uncle  says  they  are  the  most  trusty  horses 
he  has.  He  has  told  me  about  the  man  you  had, 
who  said  that  those  two  horses  knew  more  than 
most  •  humans. '  " 

"That  was  old  Davids,"  said  Mr.  Harry; 
' '  when  we  had  him,  he  was  courting  a  widow  who 
lived  over  in  Hoytville.  About  once  a  fortnight, 
he'd  ask  father  for  one  of  the  horses  to  go  over 


2'38 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


to  see  her.  He  always  stayed  pretty  late,  and 
on  the  way  home  he'd  tie  the  reins  to  the  whip- 
stock  and  go  to  sleep,  and  never  wake  up  till  Cleve 
or  Pacer,  whichever  one  he  happened  to  have, 
would  draw  up  in  the  barnyard.  They  would  pass 
any  rigs  they  happened  to  meet,  and  turn  out  a 
little  for  a  man.  If  Davids  wasn't  asleep,  he 
could  always  tell  by  the  difference  in  their  gait 
which  they  were  passing.  They'd  go  quickly 
past  a  man,  and  much  slower,  with  more  of  a  turn 
out,  if  it  was  a  team.  But  I  dare  say  father  told 
you  this.  He  has  a  great  stock  of  horse  stories, 
and  I  am  almost  as  bad.  You  will  have  to  cry 
•halt,'  when  we  bore  you." 

' '  You  never  do, ' '  replied  Miss  Laura.  ' '  I  love 
to  talk  about  animals.  I  think  the  best  story 
about  Cleve  and  Pacer  is  the  one  that  uncle  told 
me  last  evening.  I  don't  think  you  were  there. 
It  was  about  stealing  the  oats. 

"Cleve  and  Pacer  never  steal,"  said  Mr. 
Harry.  "Don't  you  mean  Scamp?  She's  the 
thief." 

"No,  it  was  Pacer  that  stole.  He  got  out  of 
his  box,  uncle  says,  and  found  two  bags  of  oats, 
and  he  took  one  in  his  teeth  and  dropped  it  before 
Cleve,  and  ate  the  other  himself,  and  uncle  was 
so  amused  that  he  let  them  eat  a  long  time,  and 
stood  and  watched  them." 

"That  was  a,  clever  trick,"  said  Mr.  Harry. 
"Father  must  have  forgotten  to  tell  me.  Those 
two  horses  have  been  mates  ever  since  I  can 
remember,  and  I  believe  if  they  were  separated, 


A    HAPPV    HORSE 


239 


:e,  and 

whip- 
1  Cleve 

have, 
Id  pass 

out  a 
ep,  he 
;ir  gait 
quickly 
f  a  turn 
er  told 
stories, 

to  cry 

'  I  love 

t  story 

:le  told 

there. 


they'd  pine  away  and  die.  You  have  noticed  how 
low  the  partitions  are  between  the  boxes  in  the 
horse  stable.  Father  says  you  wouldn't  put  a  lot 
of  people  in  separate  boxes  in  a  room,  where  they 
couldn't  see  each  other,  and  horses  are  just  as 
fond  of  company  as  we  are.  Cleve  and  Pacer 
are  always  nosing  each  other.  A  horse  has  a 
long  memory.  Father  has  had  horses  recognize 
him,  that  he  has  been  parted  from  for  twenty 
years.  Speaking  of  their  memories  reminds  me 
of  another  good  story  about  Pacer  that  I  never 
heard  till  yesterday,  and  that  I  would  not  talk 
about  to  any  one  but  you  and  mother.  Father 
wouldn't  write  me  about  it,  for  he  never  will  put 
a  line  on  paper  where  any  one's  reputation  is 
concerned." 


d    Mr. 
e's  the 

out  of 
)f  oats, 
t  before 
cle  was 
le,  and 


Harry. 
Those 


ca.ri 


arated, 


CHAPTER  XXVI 


THE   BOX   OF   MONEY 


HIS  Story,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  "is  about 
one  of  the  hired  men  we  had  last  win- 
ter, whose  name  was  Jacobs.  He  was 
a  cunning  fellow,  with  a  hangdog  look,  and  a 
great  cleverness  at  stealing  farm  produce  from 
father  on  the  sly,  And  selling  it.  Father  knew 
perfectly  well  what  he  was  doing,  and  was  won- 
dering what  would  be  the  best  way  to  deal  with 
him,  when  one  day  something  happened  that 
brought  matters  to  a  climax. 

' '  Father  had  to  go  to  Sudbury  for  farming 
tools,  and  took  Pacer  and  the  cutter.  There  are 
two  ways  of  going  there — one  the  Sudbury  Road, 
and  the  other  the  old  Post  Road,  which  is  longer 
and  seldom  used.  On  this  occasion  father  took 
the  Post  Road.  The  snow  wasnt  deep,  and  he 
wanted  to  inquire  after  an  old  man  who  had  been 
.obbed  and  half  frightened  to  death,  a  few  days 
before.  He  was  a  miserable  old  creature,  known 
as  Miser  Jeirold,  and  he  lived  alone  with  his 
daughter.     He  had  saved  a  little  money  that  he 

kept  in  a  box  under  his  bed.     When  father  got 
340 


THE   BOX    OF    MONEY 


241 


near  the  place,  he  was  astonished  to  see  by  Pacer's 

actions  that  he  had  been  on  this  road  before,  and 

recently,  too.     Father   is  so  sharp  about  horses, 

that  they  never  do  a  thing  that  he  doesn't  attach 

a  meaning  to.     So  he  let  the  reins  hang  a  little 

loose,   and  kept  his   eye  on  Pacer.     The    horse 

went   along   the   road,  and   seeing  father  didn't 

direct  him,  turned  into  the  lane  leading  to  the 

house.     There  was  an  old  red  gate  at   the  end 

of    it,     and    he    stopped     in    front     of    it,    and 

waited    for   father  to  get  out.     Then  he   passed 

through,  and  instead  of  going  up  to  the  house, 

turned  around,  and  stood  with  his  head  toward 

the  road. 

* '  Father  never  said  a  word,  but  he  was  doing 

a  lot  of  thinking.     He  went  into  the  house,  and 

found  the  old  man  sitting  over  the  fire,  rubbing 

his  hands,  and  half-crying  about   '  the  few  poor 

dollars,'  that  he  said  he  had  had  stolen  from  him. 

Father  had  never  seen  him  before,  but  he  knew 

he  had  the  name  of  being  half  silly,  and  question 

him  as  much  as  he  liked,  he  could  make  nothing 

of  him.     The  daughter  said  that  they  had  gone  to 

bed  at  dark  the  night  her  father  was  robbed.    She 

slept  up  stairs,  and  he  down  below.     About  ten 

o'clock  she  heard  him  scream,  and  running  down 

stairs,  she  found  him  sitting  up  in  bed,   and  the 

window  wide  open.     He  said  a  man  had  sprung 

in  upon  him,  stuffed  the  bedclothes  into  his  mouth, 

and   dragging  his  box  from  under  the  bed,  had 

made  off  with  it.     She  ran  to  the  door  and  looked 

out,  but  there  was  no  one  to  be  seen.     It  was  dark, 
16 


242 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


and  snowing  a  little,  so  no  traces  of  footsteps  were 
to  be  perceived  in  the  morning. 

'  •  Father  found  that  the  neighbors  were  drop- 
ping in  to  bear  the  old  man  company,  so  he  drove 
on  to  Sudbury,  and  then  returned  home.  When 
he  got  back,  he  said  Jacobs  was  hanging  about 
the  stable  in  a  nervous  kind  of  a  way,  and  said 
he  wanted  to  speak  to  him.  Father  said  very 
good,  but  put  the  horse  in  first.  Jacobs  unhitched, 
and  father  sat  on  one  of  the  stable  benches  and 
watched  him  till  he  came  lounging  along  with  a 
straw  in  his  mouth,  and  said  he'  d  made  up  his 
mind  to  go  West,  and  he'  d  like  to  set  off  at  once. 

"Father  said  again,  very  good,  but  first  he 
had  a  little  jcount  to  settle  with  him,  and  he 
took  out  of  his  pocket  a  paper,  where  he  had 
jotted  down,  as  far  as  he  could,  every  quart  of  oats, 
and  every  bag  of  grain,  and  every  quarter  of  a 
dollar  of  market  money  that  Jacobs  had  defrauded 
him  of.  Father  said  the  fellow  turned  all  the 
colors  of  the  rainbow,  for  he  thought  he  had  cov 
ered  up  his  tracks  so  cleverly  that  he  would  never 
be  found  out.  Then  father  said,  '  Sit  down, 
Jacobs,  for  I  have  got  to  have  a  long  talk  with 
you.'  He  had  him  there  about  an  hour,  and 
when  he  finished,  the  fellow  was  completely 
broken  down.  Father  told  him  that  there  were 
just  two  courses  in  life  for  a  young  man  to  take, 
and  he  had  gotten  on  the  wrong  one.  He  was  a 
young,  smart  fellow,  and  if  he  turned  right  around 
now,  there  was  a  chance  for  him.  If  he  didn't 
there  was  nothing  but  the  State's  prison  ahead  of 


THE   BOX   OF   MONEY 


243 


him,  for  he  needn't  think  he  was  going  to  gull 
and  cheat  all  the  world,  and  never  be  found  out. 
Father   said  he'd   give   him  all   the   help  in  his 
power,  if  he  had  his  word  that  he'd  try  to  be  an 
honest  man.     Then  he   tore  up  the  paper,   and 
said  there  was  an  end  of  his  indebtedness  to  him. 
"Jacobs  is  only  a  young  fellow,  twenty -three 
or  thereabout,  and  father  says  he  sobbed  like  a 
baby.     Then,  without  looking  at  him,  father  gave 
an  account  of  his  afternoon's  drive,  just  as  if  he 
was  talking  to  himself.     He  said  that  Pacer  never 
to  his  knowledge  had  been  on  that  road  before, 
and  yet  he  seemed  perfectly  familiar  with  it,  and 
that  he  stopped  and  turned  already  to  leave  again 
quickly,  instead  of  going  up  to  the  door,  and  how 
he  looked  over  his  shoulder  and  started  on  a  run 
down  the  lane,  the  minute  father's  foot  was  in  the 
cutter  again.     In  the  course  of  his  remarks,  father 
mentioned  the  fact  that  on  Monday,  the  evening 
that  the  robbery  was  committed,  Jacobs  had  bor- 
rowed Pacer  to  go  to  the  Junction,  but  had  come 
in  with  the  horse  steaming,  and  looking  as  if  he 
had   been    driven  a  much   longer  distance  than 
that.     Father  said  that  when  he  got  done,  Jacobs 
had  sunk  down  all  in  a  heap  on  the  stable  floor, 
with  his  hands  over  his  face.     Father  left  him  to 
have  it  out  with  himself,  and  went  to  the  house. 

"The  next  morning,  Jacobs  looked  just  the 
same  as  usual,  and  went  about  with  the  other  men 
doing  his  work,  but  saying  nothing  about  going 
West.  Late  in  the  afternoon,  a  farmer  going  by 
hailed  father,  and  asked  if  he'd  heard  the  news. 


244 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


Old  Miser  Jerrold's  box  had  been  left  on  his  door- 
step some  time  through  the  night,  and  he'd  found 
it  in  the  morning.  The  money  was  all  there,  but 
the  old  fellow  was  so  cute  that  he  wouldn't  tell 
any  one  how  much  it  was.  The  neighbors  had 
persuaded  him  to  bank  it,  and  he  was  coming  to 
town  the  next  morning  with  it,  and  that  night 
some  of  them  were  going  tr  help  him  mount  guard 
over  it.  Father  told  the  men  at  milking  time,  and 
he  said  Jacobs  looked  as  unconscious  as  possible. 
However,  from  that  day  there  was  a  change  in 
him.  He  never  told  father  in  so  many  words  that 
he'd  resolved  to  be  an  honest  man,  but  his  actions 
spoke  for  him.  He  had  been  a  kind  of  sullen, 
unwilling  fellow,  but  now  he  turned  handy  and 
obliging,  and  it  was  a  real  trial  to  father  to  part 

with  him. ' ' 

Miss  Laura  was  intensely  interested  in  this 
story.  "Where  is  he  now,  Cousin  Harry  ?  "  she 
asked,  eagerly.    ' '  What  became  of  him  ? ' ' 

Mr.  Harry  laughed  in  such  amusement  that  I 
stared  up  at  him,  and  even  Fleetfoot  turned  his 
hjead  around  to  see  what  the  joke  was.  We  were 
going  very  slowly  up  a  long,  steep  hill,  and  in  the 
clear,  still  air,  we  could  hear  every  word  spoken 
in  the  buggy. 

'  •  The  last  part  of  the  story  is  the  best,  to  my 
mind,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  "  and  as  romantic  as  even 
a  girl  could  desire.  The  affair  of  the  stolen  box  was 
much  talked  about  along  Sudbury  way,  and  Miss 
Jerrold  got  to  be  considered  quite  a  desirable  young 
person  among  some  of  the  youth  near  there,  though 


THE   BOX   OF    MONEY 


245 


i  door- 
found 
re,  but 
I't  tell 
rs  had 
ing  to 
;  night 
t  guard 
le,  and 
(ssible. 
nge  in 
ds  that 
actions 
sullen, 
dy  and 
to  part 

in  this 
"•  she 

that  I 
ned  his 
e  were 
i  in  the 
spoken 

,  to  my 
as  even 
box  was 
id  Miss 
e  young 
though 


she  is  a  frowsy -headed  creature,  and  not  as  neat 
in  her  personal  attire  as  a  young  girl  should  be. 
Among  her  suitors  was  Jacobs.  He  cut  out  a  black- 
smith, and  a  painter,  and  several  young  farmers, 
and  father  said  he  never  in  his  life  had  such  a  time 
to  keep  a  straight  face,  as  when  Jacobs  came  to 
him  this  spring,  and  said  he  was  going  to  marry 
old  Miser  Jerrold's  daughter.  He  wanted  to  quit 
father's  employ,  and  he  thanked  him  in  a  real 
manly  way  for  the  manner  in  which  he  had  always 
treated  him.  Well,  Jacobs  left,  and  mother  says 
that  father  would  sit  and  speculate  about  him,  as 
to  whether  he  had  fallen  in  love  with  Eliza  Jerrold, 
or  whether  he  was  determined  to  regain  possession 
of  the  box,  and  was  going  to  do  it  honestly,  or 
whether  he  was  sorry  for  having  frightened  the  old 
man  into  a  greater  degree  of  imbecility,  and  was 
marrying  the  girl  so  that  he  could  take  care  of  him, 
or  whether  it  was  something  else,  and  so  on,  and 
so  on.  He  had  a  dozen  theories,  and  then  mother 
says  he  would  burst  out  laughing,  and  say  it 
was  one  of  the  cutest  tricks  that  he  had  ever 
heard  of. 

"In  the  end,  Jacobs  got  married,  and  father 
and  mother  went  to  the  wedding.  Father  gave 
the  bridegroom  a  yoke  of  oxen,  and  mother  gave 
the  bride  a  lot  of  household  linen,  and  I  believe 
they're  as  happy  as  the  day  is  long.  Jacobs  makes 
his  wife  comb  her  hair,  and  he  waits  on  the  old 
man  as  if  he  was  his  son,  and  he  is  improving  the 
larm  that  was  going  to  rack  and  ruin,  and  I  hear 
he  is  going  to  build  a  new  house." 


f 

'',i 


246 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


"Harry,"  exclaimed  Miss  Laura,  "  can't  you 
take  me  to  see  them  ? ' ' 

' '  Yes,  indeed  ;  mother  often  drives  over  to  take 
them  little  things,  and  we'll  go,  too,  sometime. 
I'd  like  to  see  Jacobs  myself,  now  that  he  is  a  de- 
cent fellow.  Strange  to  say,  though  he  hadn't  the 
best  of  character,  no  one  has  ever  suspected  him 
of  the  robbery,  and  he's  been  cunning  enough 
never  to  say  a  word  about  it.  Father  says  Jacobs 
is  like  all  the  rest  of  us.  There' s  mixture  of  good 
and  evil  in  him,  and  sometimes  one  predominates, 
aAd  sometimes  the  other.  But  we  must  get  on  and 
not  talk  here  all  day.     Get  up,  Fleetfoot. ' ' 

' '  Where  did  you  say  we  were  going  ?  ' '  asked 
Miss  Laura,  as  we  crossed  the  bridge  over  the 
river. 

"  A  little  way  back  here  in  the  woods,"  he  re- 
plied. ' '  There' s  an  Englishman  on  a  small  clear- 
ing that  he  calls  Penhollow.  Father  loaned  him 
some  money  three  years  ago,  and  he  won't  pay 
either  interest  or  principal." 

"  I  think  I've  heard  of  him,"  said  Miss  Laura. 
"  Isn't  he  the  man  whom  the  boys  call  Lord  Ches- 
terfield ?  " 

' '  The  same  one.  He' s  a  queer  specimen  of 
a  man.  Father  has  always  stood  up  for  him. 
He  has  a  great  liking  for  the  Enghsh.  He  says 
we  ought  to  be  as  ready  to  help  an  Englishman 
as  an  American,  for  we  spring  from  common 
stock." 

"  Oh,  not  Enghshmen  only,"  said  Miss  Laura, 
warmly;   "Chinamen,    and  Negroes,  and  every- 


THE    BOX    OF    MONEY 


247 


n't  you 

to  take 
letime. 
s  a  de- 
in't  the 
id  him 
enough 
Jacobs 
3f  good 
linates, 
on  and 

asked 
ver  the 

'  he  re- 
1  clear- 
ed him 
n't  pay 

Laura, 
d  Ches- 

imen  of 
>r  him. 
le  says 
iishman 
ommon 

)  Laura, 
every- 


body. There  ought  to  be  a  brotherhood  of  nations, 
Harry." 

"Yes,  Miss  Enthusiasm,  I  suppose  there  ought 
to  be,"  and  looking  up,  I  could  see  that  Mr.  Harry 
was  gazing  admiringly  into  his  cousin's  face. 

' '  Please  tell  me  some  more  about  the  English- 
man," said  Miss  Laura. 

"There  isn't  much  to  tell.  He  lives  alone, 
only  coming  occasionally  to  the  village  for  sup- 
plies, and  though  he  is  poorer  than  poverty,  he 
despises  every  soul  within  a  ten-mile  radius  of 
him,  and  looks  upon  us  as  no  better  than  an  order 
of  thrifty,  well -trained  lower  animals." 

' '  Why  is  that  ? ' '  asked  Miss  Laura,  in  surprise. 

"  He  is  a  gentleman,  Laura,  and  we  are  only 
common  people.  My  father  can't  hand  a  lady  in 
and  out  of  a  carriage  as  Lord  Chesterfield  can, 
nor  can  he  make  so  grand  a  bow,  nor  does  he  put 
on  evening  dress  for  a  late  dinner,  and  we  never 
go  to  the  opera  nor  to  the  theatre,  and  know  noth- 
ing of  polite  society,  nor  can  we  tell  exactly  whom 
our  great-great-grandfather  sprang  from.  I  tell 
you,  there  is  a  gulf  between  us  and  that  English- 
man, wider  than  the  one  young  Curtius  leaped 
into. ' ' 

Miss  Laura  was  laughing  merrily.  "  How 
funny  that  sounds,  Harry.  So  he  despises  you," 
and  she  glanced  at  her  good-looking  cousin,  and 
his  handsome  buggy  and  well-kept  horse,  and  then 
burst  into  another  merry  peal  of  laughter. 

Mr.  Harry  laughed,  too.  ' '  It  does  seem  absurd. 
Sometimes  when  I  pass  him  jogging  along  to  town 


ii 


248 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


in  his  rickety  old  cart,  and  look  at  his  pale,  cruel 
face,  and  know  that  he  is  a  broken-down  gambler 
and  man  of  the  world,  and  yet  considers  himself 
infinitely  superior  to  me — a  young  man  in  the 
prime  of  life,  with  a  good  constitution  and  happy 
prospects,  it  makes  me  turn  away  to  hide  a  smile." 

By  this  time  we  had  left  the  river  and  the 
meadows  far  behind  us,  and  were  passing  through 
'  a  thick  wood.  The  road  was  narrow  and  very 
broken,  and  Fleetfoot  was  obliged  to  pick  his  way 
carefully.  "Why  does  the  Englishman  Hve  in 
thi^  out-of-the-way  place,  if  he  is  so  fond  of  city 
life?"  said  Miss  Laura. 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Mr.  Harry.  "Father 
is  afraid  that  he  has  committed  some  misdeed,  and 
is  in  hiding  ;  but  we  say  nothing  about  it.  We 
have  not  seen  him  for  some  weeks,  and  to  tell  the 
truth,  this  trip  is  as  much  to  see  what  has  become 
of  him,  as  to  make  a  demand  upon  him  for  the 
money.  As  he  lives  alone,  he  might  lie  there  ill, 
and  no  one  would  know  anything  about  it.  The 
last  time  that  we  knew  of  his  coming  to  the  village 
was  to  draw  quite  a  sum  of  money  from  the  bank. 
It  annoyed  father,  for  he  said  he  might  take  some 
of  it  to  pay  his  debts.  I  think  his  relatives  in 
England  supply  him  with  funds.  Here  we  are  at 
the  entrance  to  the  mansion  of  Penhollow.  I  must 
get  out  and  open  the  gate  that  will  admit  us  to  the 
winding  avenue." 

We  had  arrived  in  front  of  some  bars  which 
vvcre  laid  across  an  opening  in  the  snake  fence 
that  ran  along  one  side  of  the  road.     I  sat  down 


THE    BOX   OF   MONEY 


249 


and  looked  about.  It  was  a  strange,  lonely  place. 
The  trees  almost  met  overhead,  and  it  was  very- 
dim  and  quiet.  The  sun  could  only  send  little 
straggling  beams  through  the  branches.  There 
was  a  muddy  pool  of  water  before  the  bars  that 
Mr.  Harry  was  letting  down,  and  he  got  his  feet 
wet  in  it.  • '  Confound  that  Englishman, ' '  he  said, 
backing  out  of  the  water,  and  vViping  his  boots  on 
the  grass.  "  He  hasn't  even  gumption  enough  to 
throw  down  a  load  of  stone  there.  Drive  in,  Laura, 
and  I'll  put  up  the  bars. ' '  Fleetfoot  took  us  through 
the  opening,  and  then  Mr.  Harry  jumped  into  the 
buggy  and  took  up  the  reins  again. 

We  had  to  go  very  slowly  up  a  narrow,  rough 
road.  The  bushes  scratched  and  scraped  against 
the  buggy,  and  Mr.  Harry  looked  very  much  an- 
noyed. 

* '  No  man  liveth  to  himself, ' '  said  Miss  Laura, 
softly.  "This  man's  carelessness  is  giving  you 
trouble.  Why  doesn't  he  cut  these  branches  that 
overhang  the  road  ? ' ' 

"  He  can't  do  it,  because  his  abominable  lazi- 
ness won't  let  him,"  said  Mr.  Harry.  "I'd  like 
to  be  behind  him  for  a  week,  and  I'd  make  him 
step  a  little  faster.  We  have  arrived  at  last, 
thank  goodness." 

There  was  a  small  grass  clearing  in  the  midst 
of  the  woods.  Chips  and  bits  of  wood  were  littered 
about,  and  across  the  clearing  was  a  roughly-built 
house  of  unpainted  boards.  The  front  door  was 
propped  open  by  a  stick.  Some  of  the  panes  of 
glass  in  the  windows  were  broken,  and  the  whole 


250 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


house  had  a  melancholy,  dilapidated  look.  I 
thought  that  I  had  never  seen  such  a  sad -looking 
place. 

"  It  seems  as  if  there  was  no  one  about,"  said 
Mr.  Harry,  with  a  puzzled  face.  "Barron  must 
be  away.  Will  you  hold  Fleetfoot,  Laura,  while 
I  go  and  see  ? '  * 

He  drew  the  buggy  up  near  a  small  log  build- 
ing that  had  evidently  been  used  for  a  stable,  and 
I  lay  down  beside  it  and  watched  Miss  Laura. 


•1 

i 


)king 


said 
must 
while 

)uild- 
,  and 

L. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 

A   NEGLECTED   STABLE 

HAD  not  been  on  the  ground  more  than 
a  few  seconds,  before  I  turned  my  eyes 
from  Miss  Laura  to  the  log  hut.  It  was 
deathly  quiet,  there  was  not  a  sound  coming  from 
it,  but  the  air  was  full  of  queer  smells,  and  I  was 
so  uneasy  that  I  could  not  lie  still.  There 
was  something  the  matter  with  Fleetfoot,  too. 
He  was  pawing  the  ground  and  whinnying,  and 
looking,  not  after  Mr.  Harry,  but  toward  the  log 
building. 

"Joe,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "  what  is  the  matter 
with  you  and  Fleetfoot?  Why  don't  you  stand 
still  ?  Is  there  any  stranger  about  ? ' '  and  she 
peered  out  of  the  buggy. 

I  knew  there  was  something  wrong  somewhere, 
but  I  didn't  know  what  it  was  ;  so  I  stretched  my- 
self up  on  the  step  of  the  buggy,  and  licked  her 
hand,  and  barking,  to  ask  her  to  excuse  me,  I  ran 
off  to  the  other  side  of  the  log  hut.  There  was  a 
door  there,  but  it  was  closed,  and  propped  firmly 
up  by  a  plank  that  I   could  not  move,  scratch  as 

hard  as  I  liked.     I  was  determined  to  get  in,  so  I 

25X 


2'52 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


jumped   against   the    door,  and   tore  and  bit  at 
the  plank,  till  Miss  Laura  came  to  help  me. 

"You  won't  find  anything  but  rats  in  that  ram- 
shackle old  place,  Beautiful  Joe,"  she  said,  as 
she  pulled  the  plank  away;  "and  as  you  don't 
hurt  them,  I  don't  see  what  you  want  to  get  in  for. 
However,  you  are  a  sensible  dog,  and  usually  have 
a  reason  for  having  your  own  way,  so  I  am  going 
to  let  you  have  it. ' ' 

The  plank  fell  down  as  she  spoke,  and  she 
pulled  open  the  rough  door  and  looked  in.  There 
was  no  window  inside,  only  the  light  that  streamed 
through  the  door,  so  that  for  an  instant  she  could 
see  nothing.  "  Is  any  one  here  ? "  she  asked,  in 
her  clear,  sweet  voice.  There  was  no  answer,  ex- 
cept a  low,  moaning  sound.  "Why,  some  poor 
creature  is  in  trouble,  Joe, ' '  said  Miss  Laura,  cheer- 
fully. ' '  Let  us  see  what  it  is, ' '  and  she  stepped 
inside. 

I  shall  never  forget  seeing  my  dear  Miss  Laura 
going  into  that  wet  and  filthy  log  house,  holding 
up  her  white  dress  in  her  hands,  her  face  a  picture 
of  pain  and  horror.  There  were  two  rough  stalls 
in  it,  and  in  the  first  one  was  tied  a  cow,  with  a 
calf  lying  beside  her.  I  could  never  have  believed, 
if  I  had  not  seen  it  with  my  own  eyes,  that  an  animal 
could  get  so  thin  as  that  cow  was.  Her  backbone 
rose  up  high  and  sharp,  her  hip  bones  stuck  away 
out,  and  all  her  body  seemed  shrunken  in.  There 
were  sores  on  her  sides,  and  the  smell  from  her 
stall  was  terrible.  Miss  Laura  gave  one  cry  of  pity, 
then  with  a  very  pale  face  she  dropped  her  dress, 


A   NEGLECTED    STABLE 


253 


1 

I 


and  seizing  a  little  penknife  from  her  pocket,  she 
hacked  at  the  rope  that  tied  the  cow  to  the  manger, 
and  cut  it  so  that  the  cow  could  lie  down.  The 
first  thing  tbe  poor  cow  did  was  to  lick  her  calf, 
but  it  was  quite  dead.  I  used  to  think  Jenkins's 
cows  were  thin  enough,  but  he  never  had  one  that 
looked  like  this.  Her  head  was  like  the  head  of  a 
skeleton,  and  her  eyes  had  such  a  famished  look, 
that  I  turned  away,  sick  at  heart,  to  think  that  she 
had  suffered  so. 

When  the  cow  lay  down,  the  moaning  noise 
stopped,  for  she  had  been  making  it.  Miss  Laura 
ran  outdoors,  snatched  a  handful  of  grass  and  took 
it  in  to  her.  The  cow  ate  it  gratefully,  but  slowly, 
for  her  strength  seemed  all  gone. 

Miss  Laura  then  went  into  the  other  stall  to  see 
if  there  was  any  creature  there.  There  had  been 
a  horse.  There  was  now  a  lean,  gaunt-looking 
animal  lying  on  the  ground,  that  seemed  as  if  he 
was  dead.  There  was  a  heavy  rope  knotted 
round  his  neck,  and  fastened  to  his  empty  rack. 
Miss  Laura  stepped  carefully  between  his  feet,  cut 
the  rope  and  going  outside  the  stall  spoke  kindly 
to  him.  He  moved  his  ears  slightly,  raised  his 
head,  tried  to  get  up,  fell  back  again,  tried  again, 
and  succeeded  in  staggering  outdoors  after  Miss 
Laura,  who  kept  encouraging  him,  and  then  he  fell 
down  on  the  grass. 

Fleetfoot  stared  at  the  miserable-looking  crea- 
ture as  if  he  did  not  know  what  it  was.  The  horse 
had  no  sores  on  his  body,  as  the  cow  had,  nor  was 
he  quite  so  lean  ;  but  he  was  the  weakest,  most 


254 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


t 


distressed-looking  animal  that  I  ever  saw.  The 
flies  settled  on  him,  and  Miss  Laura  had  to  keep 
driving  them  away.  He  was  a  white  horse,  with 
some  kind  of  pale-colored  eyes,  and  whenever  he 
turned  them  on  Miss  Laura,  she  would  look  away. 
She  did  not  cry,  as  she  often  did  over  the  sick  and 
suffering  animals.  This  seemed  too  bad  for  tears. 
She  just  hovered  over  that  poor  horse  with  her  face 
as  white  as  her  dress,  and  an  expression  of  fright 
in  her  eyes  Oh,  how  dirty  he  v/as  !  I  would 
never  have  imagined  that  a  horse  could  get  in 
such  a  condition. 

All  this  had  only  taken  a  few  minutes,  and  just 
after  she  got  the  horse  out,  Mr.  Harry  appeared. 
He  came  out  of  the  house  with  a  slow  step,  that 
quickened  to  a  run  when  he  saw  Miss  Laura. 
' '  Laura  !  "  he  exclaimed,  ' '  what  are  you  doing  ?' ' 
Then  he  stopped  and  looked  at  the  horse,  not  in 
amazement,  but  very  sorrowfully.  • '  Barron  is 
gone, ' '  he  said,  and  crumpHng  up  a  piece  of  paper, 
he  put  it  in  his  pocket.  "What  is  to  be  done  for 
these  animals  ?     There  is  a  cow,  isn't  there  ? " 

He  stepped  to  the  door  of  the  log  hut,  glanced 
in,  and  said,  quickly  :  "  Do  you  feel  able  to  drive 
home?" 

"Yes,"  said  Miss  Laura. 

"  Sure  ?  "  and  he  eyed  her  anxiously. 

• '  Yes,  yes, ' '  she  returned  ;  ' '  what  shall  I  get  ?'  * 

•  *  Just  tell  father  that  Barron  has  run  away  and 
left  a  starving  pig,  cow,  and  horse.  There's  not 
a  thing  to  eat  here.  Hell  know  what  to  do.  Til 
drive  you  to  the  road." 


I 


A   NEGLECTED   STABLE 


255 


Miss  Laura  got  into  the  buggy  and  Mr.  Harry 
jumped  in  after  her.  He  drove  her  to  the  road 
and  put  down  the  bars  ;  then  he  said  :  "Go 
straight  on.  You'll  soon  be  on  the  open  road, 
and  there's  nothing  to  harm  you.  Joe  will  look 
after  you.  Meanwhile  I'll  go  back  to  the  house 
and  heat  some  water." 

Miss  Laura  let  Fleetfoot  go  as  fast  as  he  liked 
on  the  way  home,  and  it  only  seemed  a  few  min- 
utes before  we  drove  into  the  yard.  Adele  came 
out  to  meet  us.  "  Where's  uncle  ?"  asked  Miss 
Laura. 

"  Gone  to  de  big  meadow,"  said  Adele. 

' '  And  auntie  ? ' ' 

' '  She  had  de  colds  and  chills,  and  entered 
into  de  bed  to  keep  warm.  She  lose  herself  in 
sleep  now.     You  not  go  near  her." 

' '  Are  there  none  of  the  men  about  ? ' '  asked 
Miss  Laura. 

"No,  mademoiselle.  Dey  all  occupied  way 
off." 

"  Then  you  help  me,  Adele,  like  a  good  girl," 
said  Miss  Laura,  hurrying  into  the  house.  "We've 
found  a  sick  horse  and  cow.  What  shall  I  take 
them?" 

"  Nearly  all  animals  like  de  bran  mash,"  said 
Adele. 

"Good!"  cried  Miss  Laura.  "That  is  the 
very  thing.  Put  in  the  things  to  make  it,  will  you 
please,  and  I  would  like  some  vegetables  for  the 
cow.  Carrots,  turnips,  anything  you  have  ;  take 
some  of  those  you  have  prepared  for  dinner  to- 


256 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


morrow,  and  please  run  up  to  the  barn,  Adele,  and 
get  some  hay,  and  corn,  and  oats,  not  much,  for 
we'll  be  going  back  again  ;  but  hurry,  for  the  poor 
things  are  starving,  and  have  you  any  milk  for 
the  pig  ?  Put  it  in  one  of  those  tin  kettles  with 
covers." 

For  a  few  minutes.  Miss  Laura  and  Adele  flew 
about  the  kitchen,  then  we  set  off  again.  Miss 
Laura|took  me  in  the  buggy,  for  I  was  out  of 
breath  and  wheezing  greatly.  I  had  to  sit  on  the 
seat  beside  her,  for  the  bottom  of  the  buggy  and 
the  back  were  full  of  eatables  for  the  poor  sick 
animals.  Just  as  we  drove  into  the  road,  we  met 
Mr.  Wood.  "Are  you  running  away  with  the 
farm?"  he  said  with  a  laugh,  pointing  to  the 
carrot  tops  that  were  gaily  waving  over  the  dash- 
board. 

Miss  Laura  said  a  few  words  to  him,  and  with 
a  very  grave  face  he  got  in  beside  her.  In  a  short 
time,  we  were  back  on  the  lonely  road.  Mr. 
Harry  was  waiting  at  the  gate  for  us,  and  when  he 
saw  Miss  Laura,  he  said,  ' '  Why  did  you  come 
back  again  ?  You'll  be  tired  out.  This  isn't  a 
place  for  a  sensitive  girl  like  you." 

' '  I  thought  I  might  be  of  some  use, ' '  said  she, 
gently. 

"So  you  can,"  said  Mr.  Wood.  "You  go 
into  the  house  and  sit  down,  and  Harry  and  I  will 
come  to  you  when  we  want  cheering  up.  What 
have  you  been  doing,  Harry  ? " 

"I've  watered  them  a  little,  and  got  a  gooa 
fire  going.     I   scarcely  think  the   cow   will  pull 


A   NEGLECTED   STABLE 


257 


through.     I  think  we'll  save  the  horse.     I  tried  to 
get  the  cow  out-doors,  but  she  can't  move." 

"Let  her  alone,"  said  Mr.  Wood.  "Give 
her  some  food  and  her  strength  will  come  to  her. 
What  have  you  got  here  ? ' '  and  he  began  to  take 
the  things  out  of  the  buggy.  "  Bless  the  child, 
she's  thought  of  everything,  even  the  salt.  Bring 
those  things  into  the  house,  Harry,  and  we'll 
make  a  bran  mash. ' ' 

For  more  than  an  hour  they  were  fussing  over 
the  animals.     Then  they  came  in  and  sat  down. 
The  inside   of  the   Englishman's   house  was  as 
untidy  as  the  outside.     There  was  no  upstairs  to 
it — only   one    large    room   with   a   dirty   curtain 
stretched  across  it.     On  one  side  was  a  low  bed 
with  a  heap  of  clothes  on  it,  a  chair  and  a  wash- 
stand.     On  the  other  was  a  stove,  a  table,  a  shaky 
rocking-chair  that  Miss  Laura  was  sitting  in,  a  few 
hanging  shelves  with  some  dishes  and  books  on 
them,  and  two  or  three  small  boxes  that  had  evi- 
dently been  used  for  seats.  ^ 
On  the  walls  were  tacked   some   pictures  of 
grand  houses  and  ladies  and  gentlemen  in  fine 
clothes,  and  Miss  Laura  said  that  some  of  them 
were  noble  people.     "Well,  I'm  glad  this  partic- 
ular nobleman  has  left  us,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  seat- 
ing himself  on  one  of  the  boxes,  "  if  nobleman  he 
is.     I   should  call  him  in  plain  English,  a  scoun- 
drel.    Did  Harry  show  you  his  note  .? " 
"  No,  uncle,"  said  Miss  Laura. 
"  Read  it  aloud,"  said  Mr.  Wood.     "I'd  like 
to  hear  it  again." 

'7 


'258  BEAUTIFUL   JOE  \ 

Miss  Laura  read  : 

J.  Wood,  Esq.  Dear  Sir  : — It  is  a  matter  of 
great  regret  to  me  that  I  am  suddenly  called  away 
from  my  place  at  PenhoUow,  and  will,  therefore, 
not  be  able  to  do  myself  the  pleasure  of  calling  on 
you  and  settling  my  little  account.  I  sincerely 
hope  that  the  possession  of  my  live  stock,  which  I 
make  entirely  over  to  you,  will  more  than  reim- 
burse you  for  any  trifling  expense  which  you  may 
have  incurred  on  my  account.  If  it  is  any  gradfi- 
cation  to  you  to  know  that  you  have  rendered  a 
slight  assistance  to  the  son  of  one  of  England's 
noblest  noblemen,  you  have  it.  With  expres- 
sions of  the  deepest  respect,  and  hoping  that  my 
stock  may  be  in  good  condition  when  you  take 
possession, 

I  am,  dear  sir,  ever  devotedly  yours, 
Howard  Algernon  Leduc  Barron. 

"Miss  Laura  dropped  the  paper.  "  Uncle,  did 
he  leave  those  animals  to  starve  .'* " 
,  "  Didn't  you  notice,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  grimly, 
"that  there  wasn't  a  wisp  of  hay  inside  that 
■shanty,  and  that  where  the  poor  beasts  were  tied 
\jp  the  wood  was  knawed  and  bitten  by  them  in 
their  torture  for  food?  Wouldn't  he  have  sent 
me  that  note,  instead  of  leaving  it  here  on  the 
table,  if  he'd  wanted  me  to  know  ?  The  note 
isn't  dated,  but  I  judge  he's  been  gone  five  or  six 
days.  He  has  had  a  spite  against  me  ever  since 
I  lent  him  that  hundred  dollars.  I  don't  know 
why,  for  I've  stood  up  for  him  when  others  would 
have  run  him  out  of  the  place.  He  intended  me 
to  come  here  and  find  every  animal  lying  dead. 


A    NEGLECTKD   STAHLE 


259 


He  even  had  a  rope  around  the  pig's  neck. 
Harry,  my  boy.  let  us  go  and  look  after  them 
again.  I  love  a  dumb  brute  too  well  to  let  it 
suffer,  but  in  this  case  I'd  give  two  hundred  dol- 
lars more  if  I  could  make  them  live  and  have 
Barron  know  it. ' ' 

They  left  the  room,  and   Miss   Laura  sat  turn- 
ing the  sheet  of  paper  over  and  over,  with  a  kind 
of  horror  in  her  face.     It  was  a  very  dirty  piece  of 
paper,  but  by-and-by  she  made  a  discovery.     She 
took  it  in  her  hand  and  went  out-doors.     I  am 
sure  that  the  poor  horse  lying  on  the  grass  knew 
her.     He  lifted  his  head,  and  what  a  different  ex- 
pression he  had  now  that  his  hunger  had  been 
partly  satisfied.     Miss  Laura  stroked  and  patted 
him,  then  she  called  to  her  cousin,  "Harry,  will 
you  look  at  this  ? ' ' 

He  took  the  paper  from  her,  and  said  :  "That 
is  a  crest  shining  through  the  different  strata  of 
dust  and  grime,  probably  that  of  his  own  family. 
We'll  have  it  cleaned,  and  it  will  enable  us  to  track 
the  villain.  You  want  him  punished,  don't 
you?"  he  said,  with  a  little,  sly  laugh  at  Miss 
Laura. 

She  made  a  gesture  in  the  direction  of 
the  suffering  horse,  and  said,  frankly,  "Yes  I 
do." 

"Well,  my  dear  girl,"  he  said,  "father  and  I 
are  with  you.  If  we  can  hunt  Barron  down,  we'll 
do  it."  Then  he  muttered  to  himself  as  she 
turned  away,  "She  is  a  real  Puritan,  gentle,  and 
sweet,  and  good,  and  yet  severe.     Rewards  for 


26o 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


the  virtuous,  punishments  for  the  vicious, ' '  and  he 
repeated  some  poetry  : 

*'  She  was  so  charitable  and  so  piteous, 
She  would  weep  if  that  she  saw  a  mouse 
Caught  in  a  trap,  if  it  were  dead  or  bled." 

Miss  Laura  saw  that  Mr.  Wood  and  Mr.  Harry 
were  doing  all  that  could  be  done  for  the  cow  and 
horse,  so  she  wandered  down  to  a  hollow  at  the 
back  of   the  house,  where  the   Englishman  had 
kept  his  pig.     Just  now,  he  looked  more  like  a 
gteyhound  than  a  pig.     His  legs  were  so  long,  his 
nose  so  sharp,  and  hunger,  instead  of  making  him 
stupid  like  the  horse  and  cow,  had  made  him  more 
lively.     I  think  he  had  probably  not  suffered  so 
much  as  they  had,  or  perhaps  he  had  had  a  greater 
store  of  fat  to  nourish  him.     Mr.  Harry  said  that 
if  he  had  been  a  girl,  he  would  have  laughed  and 
cried  at  the  same  time  when  he  discovered  that 
pig.     He   must  have  been  asleep  or  exhausted 
when  we  arrived,  for  there  was  not  a  sound  out  of 
him,  but  shortly  afterward  he  had  set  up  a  yelling 
that  attracted  Mr.   Harry's  attention,   and  made 
him  run  down  to  him.     Mr.  Harry  said  he  was 
raging  around  his  pen,  digging  the  ground  with  his 
snout,  falling  down  and  getting  up  again,  and  by 
a  miracle,   escaping  death  by  choking  from  the 
rope  that  was  tied  around  his  neck. 

Now  that  his  hunger  had  been  satisfied,  he  was 
gazing  contentedly  at  his  little  trough  that  was  half 
full  of  good,  sweet  milk.  Mr.  Harry  said  that  a 
starving  animal,  like  a  starving  person,  should 


A    NEGLECTED   STABLE 


261 


nd  he 


Harry 
iw  and 

at  the 
n  had 
hke  a 
ng,  his 
\g  him 
1  more 
red  so 
greater 
id  that 
ed  and 
;d  that 
lausted 

out  of 
yelling 
[  made 
he  was 
vith  his 
and  by 
om  the 


only  be  fed  a  little  at  a  time  ;  but  the  Englishman's 
animals  had  always  been  fed  poorly,  and  their 
stomachs  had  contracted  so  that  they  could  not  eat 
much  at  one  time. 

Miss   Laura   got   a  stick   and   scratched  poor 
piggy's  back  a  little,  and  then  she  went  back  to 
the  house.     In  a  short  time  we  went  home  with 
Mr.  Wood.     Mr.  Harry  was  going  to  stay  all  night 
with  the  sick  animals,  and  his  mother  would  send 
him  things  to  make  him  comfortable.     She  was 
better  by  the  time  we  got  home,  and  was  horrified 
to  hear  the  tale  of  Mr.  Barron's  neglect.     Later  in 
the  evening,  she  sent  one  of  the  men  over  with  a 
whole  box  full  of  things  for  her  darling  boy,  and 
a  nice,  hot  tea,  done  up  for  him  in  a  covered  dish. 
When  the  man  came  home,  he  said  that  Mr. 
Harry  would  not  sleep  in  the  Englishman's  dirty 
house,  but  had  slung  a  hammock  out  under  the 
trees.     However,  he  would  not  be  able  to  sleep 
much,  for  he  had  his  lantern  by  his  side,  all  ready 
to  jump  up  and  attend  to  the  horse  and  cow.     It 
was  a  very  lonely  place  for  him  out  there  in  the 
woods,  and  his  mother  said  that  she  would  be  glad 
when  the  sick  animals  could  be  driven  to  their  own 
farm. 


he  was 

as  half 

I  that  a 

should 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 


THE   END    OF    THE    ENGLISHMAN 


i,    1 


In  a  few  days,  thanks  to  Mr.  Harry's  con- 
stant care,  the  horse  and  cow  were  able 
II  to  walk.  It  was  a  mournful  procession 
that  came  into  the  yard  at  Dingley  Farm.  The 
hollow-eyed  horse,  and  lean  cow,  and  funny,  little 
thin  pig,  staggering  along  in  such  a  shaky  fashion. 
Their  hoofs  were  diseased,  and  had  pardy  rotted 
away,  so  that  they  could  not  walk  straight.  Though 
it  was  only  a  mile  or  two  from  PenhoUow  to  Ding- 
ley  Farm,  they  were  tired  out,  and  dropped  down 
exhausted  on  their  comfortable  beds. 

Miss  Laura  was  so  delighted  to  think  that  they 
had  all  lived,  that  she  did  not  know  what  to  do. 
Her  eyes  were  bright  and  shining,  and  she  went 
from  one  to  another  with  such  a  happy  face.  The 
queer  little  pig  that  Mr.  Harry  had  christened 
"Daddy  Longlegs,"  had  been  washed,  and  he 
lay  on  his  heap  of  straw  in  the  corner  of  his  neat 
little  pen,  and  surveyed  his  clean  trough  and  abun- 
dance of  food  with  the  air  of  a  prince.  Why,  he 
would  be  clean  and  dry  here,  and  all  his  life  he 

had  been  used  to  dirty,  damp  Penhollow,  with  the 
262 


THE    END    OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN 


265 


y  s  con- 
ere  able 
ocession 
n.  The 
ny,  little 
fashion, 
ly  rotted 
Though 
to  Ding- 
ed down 

:hat  they 

It  to  do. 

she  went 

ce.    The 

iristened 

and  he 

his  neat 

id  abun- 

Why,  he 

is  life  he 

with  the 


trees  hanging  over  him,  and  his  little  feet  in  a 
mass  of  filth  and  dead  leaves.  Happy  little  pig  I 
His  ugly  eyes  seemed  to  blink  and  gleam  with 
gratitude,  and  he  knew  Miss  Laura  and  Mr.  Harry- 
as  well  as  I  did. 

His  tiny  tail  was  curled  so  tight  that  it  was  al- 
most in  a  knot.  Mr.  Wood  said  that  was  a  sign 
that  he  was  healthy  and  happy,  and  that  when 
poor  Daddy  was  at  PenhoUow  he  had  noticed  that 
his  tail  hung  as  limp  and  as  loose  as  the  tail  of  a 
rat.  He  came  and  leaned  over  the  pen  with  Miss 
Laura,  and  had  a  little  talk  with  her  about  pigs. 
He  said  they  were  by  no  means  the  stupid  animals 
that  some  people  considered  them.  He  had  had 
pigs  that  were  as  clever  as  dogs.  One  little  black 
pig  that  he  had  once  sold  to  a  man  away  back  in 
the  country  had  found  his  way  home,  through  the 
woods,  across  the  river,  up  hill  and  down  dale, 
and  he'd  been  taken  to  the  place  with  a  bag  over 
his  head.  Mr.  Wood  said  that  he  kept  that  pig 
because  he  knew  so  much. 

He  said  the  most  knowing  pigs  he  ever  saw 
were  Canadian  pigs.  One  time  he  was  having  a 
trip  on  a  sailing  vessel,  and  it  anchored  in  a  long, 
narrow  harbor  in  Canada,  where  the  tide  came  in 
with  a  front  four  or  five  feet  high  called  the  ' '  bore. ' ' 
There  was  a  village  opposite  the  place  where  the 
ship  was  anchored,  and  every  day  at  low  tide,  a 
number  of  pigs  came  down  to  look  for  shell-fish. 
Sometimes  they  went  out  for  half  a  mile  over  the 
mud  flats,  but  always  a  few  minutes  before  the  tide 
came  rushing  in  they  turned  and  hurried  to  the 


264 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


shore.     Their  instincts  warned  thr  1  that  if  they 
stayed  any  longer  they  would  be  drowned. 

Mr.  Wood  had  a  number  of  pigs,  and  after  a 
while  Daddy  was  put  in  with  them,  j.  a  .).  fine  time 
he  had  of  it  making  friends  with  the  other  little 
^runters.  They  were  often  let  out  in  the  pasture 
or  orchard,  and  when  they  were  there,  I  could 
always  single  out  Daddy  from  among  them,  be- 
cause he  was  the  smartest.  Though  he  had  been 
brought  up  in  such  a  miserable  way,  he  soon 
learned  to  take  very  good  care  of  himself  at  Ding- 
ley  Farm,  and  it  was  amusing  to  see  him  when  a 
storm  was  coming  on,  running  about  in  a  state  of 
great  excitement  carrying  little  bundles  of  straw 
in  his  mouth  to  make  himself  a  bed.  He  was  a 
white  pig,  and  was  always  kept  very  clean.  Mr. 
Wood  said  that  it  is  wrong  to  keep  pigs  dirty. 
They  like  to  be  clean  as  well  as  other  animals,  and 
if  they  were  kept  so,  human  beings  would  not  get 
so  many  diseases  from  eating  their  flesh. 

The  cow,  poor  unhappy  creature,  never,  as  long 
as  she  lived  on  Dingley  Farm,  lost  a  strange, 
melancholy  look  from  her  eyes.  I  have  heard  it 
said  that  animals  forget  past  unhappiness,  and 
perhaps  some  of  them  do.  I  know  that  I  have 
never  forgotten  my  one  miserable  year  with  Jen- 
kins, and  I  have  been  a  sober,  thoughtful  dog 
in  consequence  of  it,  and  not  playful  like  some 
dogs  who  have  never  known  what  it  is  to  be  really 
unhappy. 

It  always  seemed  to  me  that  the  Englishman's 
cow  was  thinking  of  her  poor  dead  calf,  starved  to 


THE    END   OF  THE   ENGLISHMAN 


265 


death  by  her  cruel  master.  She  got  well  herself, 
and  came  and  went  with  the  other  cows,  seem- 
ingly as  happy  as  they,  but  often  when  I  watched 
her  standing  chewing  her  cud,  and  looking  away 
in  the  distance,  I  could  see  a  difference  between 
her  face  and  the  faces  of  the  cows  that  had  always 
been  happy  on  Dingley  Farm.  Even  the  farm 
hands  ailed  her  ' '  Old  Melancholy, ' '  and  soon  she 
got  to  be  known  by  that  name,  or  Mel,  for  short. 
Until  she  got  well,  she  was  put  into  the  cow  stable, 
where  Mr.  Wood's  cows  all  stood  at  night  upon 
raised  platforms  of  earth  covered  over  with  straw 
litter,  and  she  was  tied  with  a  Dutch  halter,  so 
that  she  could  lie  down  and  go  to  sleep  when  she 
wanted  to.  When  she  got  well,  she  was  put  out  to 
pasture  with  the  other  cows. 

The  horse  they  named  "Scrub,"  because  he 
could  never  be,  under  an)  circumstance,  anything 
but  a  broken-down,  plain-looking  animal.  He 
was  put  into  the  horse  stable  in  a  stall  next  Fleet- 
foot,  and  as  the  partition  was  low,  they  could  look 
over  at  each  other.  In  time,  by  dint  of  much  doc- 
toring. Scrub's  hoofs  became  clean  and  sound, 
and  he  was  able  to  do  some  work.  Miss  Laura 
petted  him  a  great  deal.  She  often  >6k  out  apples 
to  the  stable,  and  Fleetfoot  would  throw  up  his 
beautiful  head  and  look  reproachfully  over  the 
partition  at  her,  for  she  always  stayed  longer  with 
Scrub  than  with  him,  and  Scrub  always  got  the 
larger  share  of  whatever  good  thing  was  going. 

Poor  old  Scrub  !     1  think  he  loved  Miss  Laura. 
He  was  a  stupid  sort  of  a  horse,  and  always  acted 


266 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


as  if  he  was  blind.  He  would  run  his  nose  up 
and  down  the  front  of  her  dress,  nip  at  the  but- 
tons, and  be  very  happy  if  he  could  get  a  bit  of 
her  watch-chain  between  his  strong  teeth.  If  he 
was  in  the  field  he  never  seemed  to  know  her  till 
she  was  right  under  his  pale-colored  eyes.  Then 
he  would  be  delighted  to  see  her.  He  was  not 
blind  though,  for  Mr.  Wood  said  he  was  not.  He 
said  he  had  probably  not  been  an  over-bright  horse 
to  start  with,  and  had  been  made  more  dull  by 
cruel  usage. 

\  As  for  the  Englishman,  the  master  of  these 
animals,  a  very  strange  thing  happened  to  him. 
He  came  to  a  terrible  end,  but  for  a  long  time  no 
one  knew  anything  about  it.  Mr.  Wood  and  Mr. 
Harry  were  so  very  angry  with  him  that  they  said 
they  would  leave  no  stone  unturned  to  have  him 
punished,  or  at  least  to  have  it  known  what  a  vil- 
lain he  was.  They  sent  the  paper  with  the  crest 
on  it  to  Boston.  Some  people  there  wrote  to  Eng- 
land, and  found  out  that  it  was  the  crest  of  a  noble 
and  highly  esteemed  family,  and  some  earl  was  at 
the  head  of  it.  They  were  all  honorable  people 
in  this  family  except  one  man,  a  nephew,  not  a 
son,  of  the  late  earl.  He  was  the  black  sheep  of 
them  all.  As  a  young  man,  he  had  led  a  wild 
and  wicked  life,  and  had  ended  by  forging  the 
name  of  one  of  his  friends,  so  that  he  was  obliged 
to  leave  England  and  take  refuge  in  America. 
By  the  description  of  this  man,  Mr.  Wood  knew 
that  he  must  be  Mr.  Barron,  so  he  wrote  to  these 
English  people,  and  told   them   what  a   wicked 


THE   END    OF  THE   ENGLISHMAN 


267 


Dse  up 
e  but- 
,  bit  of 

If  he 
her  till 

Then 
as  not 
)t.  He 
t  horse 
lull  by 

•  these 
o  him. 
ime  no 
nd  Mr. 
ey  said 
ve  him 
.t  a  vil- 
e  crest 

0  Eng- 

1  noble 

was  at 

people 

,  not  a 

leep  of 

a  wild 
ing  the 
obliged 
merica. 
1  knew 
;o  these 
wicked 


thing  their  relative  had  done  in  leaving  his  ani- 
mals to  starve.  In  a  short  time,  he  got  an  answer 
from  them,  which  was,  at  the  same  time,  very 
proud  and  very  touching.  It  came  from  Mr.  Bar- 
ron's cousin,  and  he  said  quite  frankly  that  he 
knew  his  relative  was  a  man  of  evil  habits,  but  it 
seemed  as  if  nothing  could  be  done  to  reform  him. 
His  family  was  accustomed  to  send  a  quarterly 
allowance  to  him,  on  condition  that  he  led  a  quiet 
life  in  some  retired  place,  but  their  last  remittance 
to  him  was  lying  unclaimed  in  Boston,  and  they 
thought  he  must  be  dead.  Could  Mr.  Wood  tell 
them  anything  about  him  ? 

Mr.  Wood  looked  very  thoughtful  when  he  got 
this  letter,  then  he  said,  "  Harry,  how  long  is  it 
since  Barron  ran  away  ? ' ' 

' '  About  eight  weeks, ' '  said  Mr.  Harry. 

"That's  strange,"  said  Mr.  Wood.  "The 
money  these  English  people  sent  him  would  get 
to  Boston  just  a  few  days  after  he  left  here.  He 
is  not  the  man  to  leave  it  long  unclaimed.  Some- 
thing must  have  happened  to  him.  Where  do  you 
suppose  he  would  go  from  Penhollow  ? ' ' 

"  I  have  no  idea,  sir,"  said  Mr.  Harry. 

' '  And  how  would  he  go  ? "  said  Mr.  Wood. 
"  He  did  not  leave  Riverdale  Station,  because 
he  would  have  been  spotted  by  some  of  his 
creditors. ' ' 

' '  Perhaps  he  would  cut  through  the  woods  to 
the  Junction,"  said  Mr.  Harry. 

"Just  what  he  would  do,"  said  Mr.  Wood, 
slapping  his  knee.     "I'll  be  driving  over  there 


r 


!MBH«"»I!I«««I« 


268 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


to-morrow     to    see    Thompson,    and    I'll    make 
inquiries." 

Mr.  Harry  spoke  to  his  father  the  next  night 
when  he  came  home,  and  asked  him  if  he  had 
found  out  anything.  "Only  this,"  said  Mr. 
Wood.  "There's  no  one  answering  to  Barron's 
description  who  has  left  Riverdale  Junction  within 
a  twelvemonth.  He  must  have  struck  some  other 
station.  We'll  let  him  go.  The  Lord  looks  out 
for  fellows  like  that." 

' '  We  will  look  out  for  him  if  he  ever  comes 
bfeck  to  Riverdale, ' '  said  Mr.  Harry,  quietly.  All 
through  the  village,  and  in  the  country  it  was 
known  what  a  dastardly  trick  the  EngHshman  had 
played,  and  he  would  have  been  roughly  handled 
if  he  had  dared  return. 

Months  passed  away,  and  nothing  was  heard 
of  him.  Late  in  the  autumn,  after  Miss  Laura  and 
I  had  gone  back  to  Fairport,  Mrs.  Wood  wrote 
her  about  the  end  of  the  Englishman.  Some 
Riverdale  lads  were  beating  about  the  woods, 
looking  for  lost  cattle,  and  in  their  wanderings 
came  to  an  old  stone  quarry  that  had  been  disused 
for  years.  On  one  side  there  was  a  smooth  wall 
of  rock,  many  feet  deep.  On  the  other  the  ground 
and  rock  were  broken  away,  and  .t  was  quite  easy 
to  get  into  it.  They  found  that  by  some  means  or 
other,  one  of  their  cows  had  fallen  into  this  deep 
pit,  over  the  steep  side  of  the  quarry.  Of  course, 
the  poor  creature  was  dead,  but  the  boys,  out  of 
curiosity,  resolved  to  go  down  and  look  at  her. 
They  clambered  down,  found   the   cow,  and,  to 


THE   END   OF   THE   ENGLISHMAN 


269 


their  horror  and  amazement,  discovered  near-by 
the  skeleton  of  a  man.  There  was  a  heavy  walk- 
ing-stick by  his  side,  which  they  recognized  as 
one  that  the  Englishman  had  carried. 

He  was  a  drinking  man,  and  perhaps  he  had 
taken  something  that  he  thought  would  strengthen 
him  for  his  morning's  walk,  but  which  had,  on 
the  contrary,  bewildered  him,  and  made  him  lose 
his  way  and  fall  into  the  quarry.  Or  he  might 
have  started  before  daybreak,  and  in  the  darkness 
have  slipped  and  fallen  down  this  steep  wall  of 
rock.  One  leg  was  doubled  under  him,  and  if  he 
had  not  been  instantly  killed  by  the  fall,  he  must 
have  been  so  disabled  that  he  could  not  move.  In 
that  lonely  place,  he  would  call  for  help  in  vain, 
so  he  may  have  perished  by  the  terrible  death  of 
starvation — the  death  he  had  thought  to  mete  out 
to  his  suffering  animals. 

Mrs.  Wood  said  that  there  was  never  a  sermon 
preached  in  Riverdale  that  had  the  effect  that  the 
death  of  this  wicked  man  had,  and  it  reminded 
her  of  a  verse  in  the  Bible  :  "  He  made  a  pit  and 
he  digged  it,  and  is  fallen  into  the  ditch  which  he 
made. ' '  Mrs.  Wood  said  that  her  husband  had 
written  about  the  finding  of  Mr.  Barron's  body  to 
his  English  relatives,  and  had  received  a  letter 
from  them  in  which  they  seemed  relieved  to  hear 
that  he  was  dead.  They  thanked  Mr.  Wood  for 
his  plain  speaking  in  telling  them  of  their  rela- 
tive's misdeeds,  and  said  that  from  all  they  knew 
of  Mr.  Barron's  past  conduct,  his  influence  would 
be  for  evil  and  not  for  good,  in  any  place  that  he 


270 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


choose  to  live  in.  They  were  having  their  money 
sent  from  Boston  to  Mr.  Wood,  and  they  wished 
him  to  expend  it  in  the  way  he  thought  best  fitted 
to  counteract  the  evil  effects  of  their  namesake's 
doings  in  Riverdale. 

When  this  money  came,  it  amounted  to  some 
hundreds  of  dollars.  Mr.  Wood  would  have 
nothing  to  do  with  it.  He  handed  it  over  to  the 
Band  of  Mercy,  and  they  formed  what  they  called 
the  "Barron  Fund,"  which  they  drew  upon  when 
they  wanted  money  for  buying  and  circulating 
humane  literature.  Mrs.  Wood  said  that  the  fund 
was  being  added  to,  and  the  children  were  send- 
ing all  over  the  State  ieii/lets  and  little  books 
which  preached  the  gospel  of  kindness  to  God's 
lower  creation.  A  stranger  picking  one  of  them 
up,  and  seeing  the  name  of  the  wicked  English- 
man printed  on  the  tide  page,  would  think  that  he 
was  a  friend  and  benefactor  to  the  Riverdale 
people — the  very  opposite  of  what  he  gloried  in 
being. 


CHAPTER  XXIX 


A   TALK    ABOUT    SHEEP 


I ISS  LAURA  was  very  much  interested  in 
the  sheep  on  Dingley  Farm.   There  was 
a  flock  in  the  orchard  near  the  house 
that  she  often  went  to  see.     She  always  carried 
roots  and  vegetables  to  them,  turnips  particularly, 
for  they  were  very  fond  of  them  ;  but  they  would 
not  come  to  her  to  get  them,  for  they  did  not  know 
her  voice.     They  only  Hfted  their  heads  and  stared 
at  her  when   she  called  them.     But  when   they 
heard  Mr.  Wood's  voice,  they  ran  to  the  fence, 
bleating  with  pleasure,  and  trying  to  push  their 
noses  through  to  get  the  carrot  or  turnip,  or  what- 
ever he  was  handing  to  them.     He  called  them  his 
httle  Southdowns,  and  he  said  he  loved  his  sheep, 
for  they  were  the  most  gentle  and  inoffensive  crea- 
tures that  he  had  on  his  farm. 

One  day  when  he  came  into  the  kitchen  in- 
quiring for  salt,  Miss  Laura  said  ;  "  Is  it  for  the 
sheep  ? ' ' 

'I  Yes,"  he  replied;  "I  am  going  up  to  the 
ivuods  pasture  to  examine  my  Shropshires. " 

••  You  would  Hke  to  go  too,  Laura,"  said  Mrs. 

371 


272 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


a 


1: 


Wood.  '  •  Take  your  hands  right  away  from  that 
cake.  I'll  finish  frosting  it  for  you.  Run  along 
and  get  your  broad -brimmed  hat.     It's  very  hot." 

Miss  Laura  danced  out  into  the  hall  and  back 
again,  and  soon  we  were  walking  up,  back  of  the 
house,  along  a  path  that  led  us  through  the  fields 
to  the  pasture.  "What  are  you  going  to  do, 
uncle?"  she  said;  "and  what  are  those  funny 
things  in  your  hands  ? ' ' 

"  Toe-clippers,"  he  rephed  :  "  and  I  am  going 
to  examine  the  sheeps'  hoofs.  You  know  we've 
Ijiad  warm,  moist  weather  all  through  July,  and 
I'm  afraid  of  foot-rot.  Then  they're  sometimes 
troubled  with  overgrown  hoofs." 

"  WTiat  do  you  do  if  they  get  foot-rot  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Laura. 

"I've  various  cures,"  he  said.  "  Paring  and 
clipping,  and  dipping  the  hoof  in  blue  vitriol  and 
vinegar,  or  rubbing  it  on,  as  the  English  shepherds 
do.  It  destroys  the  diseased  part,  but  doesn't 
affect  the  sound." 

"  Do  sheep  have  many  diseases  ?  "  asked  Miss 
Laura.  "  I  know  one  of  them  myself — that  is  the 
scab. ' ' 

"A  nasty  thing  that,"  said  Mr.  Wood,  vigor- 
ously ;  "  and  a  man  that  builds  up  a  flock  from  a 
stockyard  often  finds  it  out  to  his  cost. ' ' 

"What  is  it  like  ? "  asked  Miss  Laura. 

"The  sheep  get  scabby  from  a  microbe  under 
the  skin,  which  causes  them  to  itch  fearfully,  and 
they  lose  their  wool. 

"  And  can't  it  be  cured  f" 


A    TALE   ABOUT   SHEEP 


273 


•*  Oh,  yes  !  with  time  and  attention.  There  are 
different  remedies.  I  believe  petroleum  is  the 
best." 

By  this  time  we  had  got  to  a  wide  gate  that 
opened  into  the  pasture.  As  Mr.  Wood  let  Miss 
Laura  go  through  and  then  closed  it  behind  her,  he 
cdd,  ' '  You  are  looking  at  that  gate.  You  want  to 
know  why  it  is  so  long,  don't  you  }  " 

"  Yes,  uncle,"  she  said  ;  "  but  I  cai'tbear  to 
ask  so  many  questions." 

"Ask  as  many  as  you  like,"  he  said,  good- 
naturedly.  "  I  don't  mind  answering  them.  Have 
you  ever  seen  sheep  pass  through  a  gate  or  door  ?" 

"Oh,  yes,  often." 

"  And  how  do  they  act  }  " 

"Oh,  so  silly,  uncle.  They  hang  back,  and 
one  waits  for  another  ;  and.  finally,  they  all  try  to 
go  at  once." 

"  Precisely  ;  when  one  goes  they  all  want  to 
go,  if  it  was  to  jump  into  a  bottomless  pit.  Many 
sheep  are  injured  by  overcrowding,  so  I  have  my 
gates  and  doors  very  wide.  Now,  let  us  call  them 
up."  There  wasn't  one  in  sight,  but  when  Mr. 
Wood  lifted  up  his  voice  and  cried  :  "  Ca  nan,  nan, 
nan  !  "  black  faces  began  to  peer  out  from  among 
the  bushes  ;  and  little  black  legs,  carryin^r  white 
bodies,  came  hurrying  up  the  stony  paths  from  the 
cooler  parts  of  the  pasture.  Oh,  how  -iad  they 
were  to  get  the  salt  !  Mr.  Wood  let  Miss  Laura 
spread  it  on  some  flat  rocks,  then  they  sat  down  on 
a  log  under  a  tree  and  watched  them  eating  it  and 
licking   the   rocks   when   it   was  all  gone.     Miss 


274 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Vt 
p 


Laura  sat  fanning  herself  with  her  hat  and  smiling 
at  them.  "  You  funny,  woolly  things, "  she  said; 
"You're  not  so  stupid  as  some  people  think  you 
are.  Lie  still,  Joe.  If  you  show  yourself,  they 
may  run  away." 

I  crouched  behind  the  log,  and  only  lifted  my 
head  occasionally  to  see  what  the  sheep  were  do- 
ing. Some  of  them  went  back  into  the  woods,  for 
it  was  very  hot  in  this  bare  part  of  the  pasture,  but 
the  most  of  them  would  not  leave  Mr.  Wood,  and 
stood  staring  at  him.  "  That's  a  fine  sheep,  isn't 
itj?"  said  Miss  Laura,  pointing  to  one  with  the 
blackest  face,  and  the  blackest  legs,  and  largest 
body  of  those  near  us. 

"Yes  ;  that's  old  Jessica.  Do  you  notice  how 
she's  holding  her  head  close  to  the  ground  ? " 

' '  Yes  ;  is  there  any  reason  for  it  ? " 

"There  is.  She's  afraid  of  the  grub  fly.  You 
often  see  sheep  holding  their  noses  in  that  way  in 
the  summer  time.  It  is  to  prevent  the  fly  from 
going  into  their  nostrils,  and  depositing  an  egg, 
vv'hich  will  turn  into  a  grub  and  annoy  and  worry 
them.  When  the  fly  comes  near,  they  give  a  sniff 
and  run  as  if  they  were  crazy,  still  holding  their 
noses  close  to  the  ground.  When  I  was  a  bc_, , 
and  the  sheep  did  that,  we  thought  that  they  had 
colds  in  their  heads,  and  used  to  rub  tar  on  their 
noses.  We  knew  nothing  about  the  fly  then,  but 
the  tar  cured  them,  and  is  just  what  I  use  now. 
Two  or  three  times  a  month  during  hot  weather, 
we  put  a  few  drops  of  it  on  the  nose  of  every  sheep 
in  the  flock." 


A   TALK    ABOUT   SHEEP 


275 


"  I  suppose  farmers  are  like  other  people,  and 
are  always  finding  out  better  ways  of  doing  their 
work,  aren't  they,  uncle  ?  "  said  Miss  Laura. 

' '  Yes,  my  child.     The  older  I  grow,  the  more 
I  find  out,  and  the  better  care  I  take  of  my  stock. 
My  grandfather  would  open  his  eyes  in  amazement, 
and  ask  me  if  I  was  an  old  women  petting  her  cats, 
if  he  were  alive,  and  could  know  the  care  I  give  my 
sheep.     He  used  to  let  his  flock  run  till  the  fields 
were  covered  with  snow,  and  bite  as  close  as  they 
liked,  till  there  wasn't  a  scrap  of  feed  left.     Then 
he  would  give  them  an  open  shed  to  run  under, 
and  throw  down  their  hay  outside.     Grain  they 
scarcely  knew  the  taste  of.     That  they  would  fall 
off  in  flesh,  and  half  of  them  lose  their  lambs  in 
the  spring,  was  an  expected  thing.     He  would  say 
I  had  them  kennelled,  if  he  could  see  my  big, 
closed  sheds,  with  the  sunny  windows  that  my  flock 
spend  the  winter  in.     I  even  house  them  during 
the  bad  fall  storms.     I'hey  can  run    out   again. 
Indeed,  I  like  to  get  them  in,  and  have  a  snack 
of  dry  food,  to  break  them  in  to  it.     They  are  in 
and  out  of  those  sheds  all  winter.    You  must  go  in, 
Laura,  and  see  the  self-feeding  racks.     On  bright, 
winter  days  they  get  a  run  in  the  cornfields.     Cold 
doesn  t  hurt  sheep.     It' s  the  heavy  rain  that  soaks 
their  fleeces. 

"With  my  way  I  seldom  lose  a  sheep,  and 
they're  the  most  profitable  stock  I  have.  If  I 
could  not  keep  them,  I  think  I'd  give  up  farming. 
Last  year  my  lambs  netted  me  eight  dollars  each. 
The  fleeces  of  the  ewes  average  eight  pounds,  and 


276 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


i 

i 


sell  for  two  dollars  each.  That's  something  to 
brag  of  in  these  days,  when  so  many  are  giving 
up  the  sheep  industry." 

"  How  many  sheep  have  you,  uncle  ?  "  asked 
Miss  Laura.  ^ 

"Only  fifty,  now.  Twenty -five  here  and 
twenty-five  down  below  in  the  orchard.  I've 
been  selling  a  good  many  this  spring. 

'  These  sheep  are  larger  than  those  in  the 
orcliird,  aren't  they  ?  "   said  Miss  Laura. 

' '  Yes  ;  I  keep  those  few  Southdowns  for  their 
fijia  quality.  I  don't  make  as  much  on  them  as  I 
do  on  these  Shropshires.  For  an  all-around  sheep 
I  like  the  Shropshire.  It's  good  for  mutton,  for 
wool,  and  for  rearing  lambs.  There's  a  great 
demand  for  mutton  nowadays,  all  through  our 
eastern  cities.  People  want  more  and  more  of  it. 
And  it  has  to  be  tender,  and  juicy,  and  finely  fla- 
vored, so  a  person  has  to  be  particular  about  the 
feed  the  sheep  get. 

"  Don't  you  hate  to  have  these  creatures  killed, 
that  you  have  raised  and  tended  so  carefully  ? ' ' 
said  Miss  Laura  with  a  little  shudder. 

"I  do, "  said  her  uncle  ;  '  *  but  never  an  ani- 
mal goes  off  my  place  that  I  don't  know  just  how 
it's  going  to  be  put  to  death.  None  of  your  send- 
ing sheep  to  market  with  their  legs  tied  together, 
and  jammed  in  a  cart,  and  sweating  and  suffering 
for  me.  They've  got  to  go  standing  comfortably 
on  their  legs,  or  go  not  at  all.  And  I'm  going  to 
know  the  butcher  that  kills  my  animals,  that  have 
been  petted  hke  children.     I  said  to  Davidson, 


A  Ialk  about  sheep 


277 


and 
I've 


over  there  in  Hoytville,.  '  If  I  thought  you  would 
herd  my  sheep  and  lambs  and  calves  together, 
and  take  them  one  by  one  in  sight  of  the  rest,  and 
stick  your  knife  into  them,  or  stun  them,  and 
have  the  others  lowing,  and  bleating,  and  crying 
in  their  misery,  this  is  the  last  consignment  you 
would  ever  get  from  me. ' 

"  He  said,  '  Wood,  I  don't  like  my  business, 
but  on  the  word  of  an  honest  man,  my  butchering 
is  done  as  well  as  it  can  be.  Come  and  see  for 
yourself. ' 

"He  took  me  to  his  slaughter-house,  and 
though  I  didn't  stay  long,  I  saw  enough  to  con- 
vince me  that  he  spoke  the  truth.  He  has  differ- 
ent pens  and  sheds,  and  the  killing  is  done  as 
quietly  as  possible  ;  the  animals  are  taken  in  one 
by  one,  and  though  the  others  suspect  what  is 
going  on,  they  can't  see  it." 

"  These  sheep  are  a  long  way  from  the  house," 
said  Miss  Laura  ;  "  don't  the  dogs  that  you  were 
telling  me  about  attack  them  ? ' ' 

"No;  for  since  I  had  that  brush  with  Wind- 
ham's dog,  I've  trained  them  to  go  and  come 
with  the  cows.  It's  a  queer  thing,  but  cows  that 
will  run  from  a  dog  when  thry  are  alone  will 
fight  him  if  he  meddles  with  their  calves  or  the 
sheep.  Ther  '^  not  a  dog  around  that  would  dare 
to  come  int(.  (s  pasture,  for  he  knows  the  cows 
would  be  aicer  him  with  lowered  horns,  and  ?. 
business  look  in  their  eyes.  The  sheep  in  the 
orchard  are  safe  enough,  for  they're  near  the 
house,   and   if  a  strange  dog     ame  around,  Joe 


i 

■4* 

1' 


278 


BKAUTIFUI.   JOE 


would  settle  him,  wouldn't  you,  Joe?"   and  Mr. 
Wood  looked  behind  the  log  at  me. 

I  got  up  and  put  my  head  on  his  arm,  and  he 
went  on:  "By  and  by,  the  Southdowns  will  be 
changed  up  here,  and  the  Shropshircs  will  go  down 
to  the  orchard.  I  like  to  keep  one  ilock  under  my 
fruit  trees.  You  know  there  is  an  old  proverb, 
•The  sheep  has  a  golden  hoof.'  They  save  me 
the  trouble  of  ploughing.  I  haven't  ploughed  my 
orchard  for  ten  years,  and  don't  expect  to  plough 
it  for  ten  years  more.  Then  your  Aunt  Hattie's 
hens  are  so  obliging  that  they  keep  me  from  the 
worry  of  finding  ticks  at  shearing  time.  All  the 
year  round,  I  let  them  run  among  the  sheep,  and 
they  nab  every  tick  they  see." 

"How  closely  sheep  bite,"  exclaimed  Miss 
Laura,  pointing  tg^  one  that  was  nibbling  almost  at 
his  master's  feet. 

"  Very  close,  and  they  eat  a  good  many  things 
that  cows  don't  relish — bitter  weeds,  and  briars, 
and  shrubs,  and  the  young  ferns  that  come  up  in 
the  spring." 

'  •  I  wish  I  could  get  hold  of  one  of  those  dear 
little  lambs,"  said  Miss  Laura.  "See  that  sweet 
little  blackie  back  in  the  alders.  Could  you  not 
coax  him  up  ? " 

"He  wouldn't  come  here,"  said  her  uncle, 
kindly;   "but  I'll  try  and  get  him  for  you." 

He  rose,  and  after  several  efforts  succeeded  in 
capturing  the  black-faced  creature,  and  bringing 
him  up  to  the  log.  He  was  very  shy  of  Miss 
Laura,  but  Mr.  Wood  held  him  firmly,  and  let  her 


A    TALK    ABOUT   SHICEP 


279 


\  Mr. 

nd  he 
ill  be 
down 
Icr  my 
[)verb, 
ve  me 
ed  my 
)lough 
attic's 
>m  the 
\n  the 
p,  and 

[  Miss 
nost  at 

things 
briars, 
;  up  in 

50  dear 
t  sweet 
^ou  not 

uncle, 

)U." 

;ded  in 

ringing 

>f  Miss 

let  her 


stroke  his  head  as  much  as  she  liked.     "  You  call 
him  little,"   said  Mr.  Wood;   "if   you  put   your 
arm  around  him,  you'll  find  he's  a  pretty  substan- 
tial lamb.      He  was  born  in  March.     This  is  the 
last  of  July  ;   he'll  be  shorn  the  middle  of   next 
month,  and   think    he's  quite  grown    up.      Poor 
little   animal  !    he  h  id  quite  a  struggle   for   life. 
The  sheep  were  turned  out   to   pasture  in  April. 
They  can't  bear  confinement  as  well  as  the  cows, 
and  as  they  bite  closer  they  can  be  turned  out 
earlier,  and  get  on  well  by  having  good  rations  of 
corn  in  addition  to  the  grass,  which  is  thin  and 
poor  so  early  in  the  spring.     This  young  creature 
was  running  by  his  mother's  side,  rather  a  weak- 
legged,   poor  specimen  of   a  lamb.     Every  night 
the  flock  was  put  under  shelter,  for  the  ground  was 
cold,  and  though  the  sheep  mijj^t  not  suffer  from 
lying  out-doors,  the  lambs  would  get  chilled.    One 
night  this  fellow's  mother  got  astray,  and  as  Ben 
neglected  to  make  the  count,  she  wasn't  missed. 
I'm  always  anxious  about  my  lambs  in  the  spring, 
and  often  get  up  in  the  night  to  look  after  them. 
That  night  I  went  out  about  two  o'clock.     I  took 
it  into  my  head,  for  some  reason  or  other,  to  count 
them.     I  found  a  sheep  and  lamb  missing,  took 
my  lantern   and  Bruno,  who  was   some  good  at 
tracking  sheep,  and  started  out.     Bruno  barked 
and  I  called,  and  the  foolish  creature  came  to  me, 
the  little  lamb   staggering  after  her.     I  wrapped 
the  lamb  in  my  coat,  took  it  to  the  house,  made  a 
fire,  and  heated  some  milk.     Your  Aunt  Hattie 
heard  me  and  got  up.     She  won't  let  me  give 


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28o 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


brandy  even  to  a  dumb  beast,  so  I  put  some  ground 
ginger,  which  is  just  as  good,  in  the  milk,  and 
forced  it  down  the  lamb' s  throat.  Then  we  wrapped 
an  old  blanket  round  him,  and  put  him  near  the 
stove,  and  the  next  evening  he  was  ready  to  go 
back  to  his  mother.  I  petted  him  all  through 
April,  and  gave  him  extras — different  kinds  of 
meal,  till  I  found  what  suited  him  best ;  now  he 
does  me  credit.  * ' 

"Dear  little  lamb,"  said  Miss  Laura,  patting 
him.  ' '  How  can  you  tell  him  from  the  others, 
uncle?"       • 

»  "I  know  all  their  faces,  Laura.  A  flock  of 
sheep  is  just  Hke  a  crowd  of  people.  They  all 
have  different  expressions,  and  have  different 
dispositions." 

"  They  all  loo]|  alike  to  me,"  said  Miss  Laura. 
' '  I   dare   say.     You   are   not   accustomed   to 
them.     Do   you    know    how    to   tell    a    sheep's 
age?" 

"No,  uncle." 

"  Here,  open  your  mouth.  Cosset,"  he  said  to 
the  lamb  that  hie  still  held.  ' '  At  one  year  they 
have  two  teeth  in  the  centre  of  the  jaw.  They 
get  two  teeth  more  every  year  up  to  five  years. 
Then  we  say  they  have  'a  full  mouth.'  After 
that  you  can't  tell  their  age  exactly  by  the  teeth. 
Now,  run  back  to  your  mother, ' '  and  he  let  the 
lamb  go. 

' '  Do  they  always  know  their  own  mothers  ? '  * 
asked  Miss  Laura. 

"  Usually.     Sometimes  a  ewe  will  not  own  her 


A   TALK    ABOUT   SHEEP 


281 


lamb.  In  that  case  we  tie  them  up  in  a  separate 
stall  till  she  recognizes  it.  Do  you  see  that  sheep 
over  there  by  the  blueberry  bushes — the  one  with 
the  very  pointed  ears  ? '  * 

"Yes,  uncle,"  said  Miss  Laura. 

"  That  lamb  by  her  side  is  not  her  own.  Hers 
died  and  we  took  its  fleece  and  wrapped  it  around 
a  twin  lamb  that  we  took  from  another  ewe,  and 
gave  to  her.  She  soon  adopted  it.  Now,  come 
this  way,  and  I'll  show  you  our  movable  feeding 
troughs. ' ' 

He  got  up  from  the  log,  and  Miss  Laura  fol- 
lowed him  to  the  fence.  "  These  big  troughs  are 
for  the  sheep, ' '  sad  Mr.  Wood  ;  ' '  and  those  shal- 
low ones  in  the  enclosure  are  for  the  lambs.  See, 
there  is  just  room  enough  for  them  to  get  under 
the  fence.  You  should  see  the  small  creatures 
rush  to  them  whenever  we  appear  with  their  oats, 
and  wheat,  or  bran,  or  whatever  we  are  going  to 
give  them.  If  they  are  going  to  the  butcher,  they 
get  corn  meal  and  oil  meal.  Whatever  it  is,  they 
eat  it  up  clean.  I  don't  believe  in  cramming  ani- 
mals. I  feed  them  as  much  as  is  good  for  them, 
and  not  any  more.  Now,  you  go  sit  down  over 
there  behind  those  bushes  with  Joe,  and  I'll  attend 
to  business." 

Miss  Laura  found  a  shady  place,  and  I  curled 
myself  up  beside  her.  We  sat  there  a  long  time, 
but  we  did  not  get  tired,  for  it  was  amusing  to 
watch  the  sheep  and  lambs.  After  a  while,  Mr. 
Wood  came  and  sat  down  beside  us.  He  talked 
some   more   about   sheep-raising  ;    then  he  said, 


282 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


"  You  may  stay  here  longer  if  you  like,  but  I  must 
get  down  to  the  house.     The  work  must  be  done 
if  the  weather  is  hot. ' '  ' 

"What  are  you  going  to  do  now?"  asked 
Miss  Laura,  jumping  up. 

"Oh!  more  sheep  business.  I've  set  out 
some  young  trees  in  the  orchard,  and  unless  I  get 
chicken  wire  around  them,  my  sheep  will  be  bark- 
ing them  for  me." 

"I've  seen  them,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "  stand- 
ing up  on  their  hind  legs  and  nibbhng  at  the  trees, 
taking  off  every  shoot  they  can  reach. ' ' 

"They  don't  hurt  the  old  trees,"  said  Mr 
Wood  ;  but  the  young  ones  have  to  be  protected. 
It  pays  me  to  take  care  of  my  fruit  trees,  for  I 
get  a  splendid  crop  from  them,  thanks  to  the 
sheep. ' ' 

"Good-bye,  little  lambs  and  dear  old  sheep  " 
said  Miss  Laura,  as  her  uncle  opened  the  gate  for 
her  to  leave  the  pasture.      "I'll  come  and  see  you 
again  some  time.    Now,  you  had  better  go  down  to 
the  brook  in  the  dingle  and  have  a  drink.     You 
look  hot  in  your  warm  coats. ' ' 
^      ''You've  mastered  one  detail  of  sheep-keep- 
mg,     said  Mr.  Wood,  as  he  slowly  walked  alon^ 
beside  his  niece.     "To  raise  healthy  sheep  one 
must  have  pure  water  where  they  can  get  to  it 
whenever  they  like.     Give  them  good  wat^r,  good 
food,  and  a  variety  of  it,  good  quarters-cool  in 
summer,   comfortable  in  winter,   and  keep  them 
quiet,    and   you'll   make  them  happy  and  make 
money  on  them." 


A    TALK    ABOUT    SHEEP 


283 


Jt  I  must 
3e  done, 

asked 

set  out 
2SS  I  get 
36  bark- 

*  stand- 
le  trees, 

lid  Mr. 

Dtected. 

5,  for  I 

to  the 

heep, '  • 
jate  for 
5ee  you 
lown  to 
.     You 

•-keep- 
along 
ip  one 
t  to  it 
■,  good 
ool  in 
them 
make 


"  I  think  I'd  Hke  sheep-raising,"  said  Miss 
Laura  ;  "  won't  you  have  me  for  your  flock  mis- 
tress, uncle  ? ' ' 

He  laughed,  and  said  he  thought  not,  for  she 
would  cry  every  time  any  of  her  charge  were  sent 
to  the  butcher. 

After  this  Miss  Laura  and  I  often  went  up  to 
the  pasture  to  see  the  sheep  and  the  lambs.  We 
used  to  get  into  a  shady  place  where  they  could 
not  see  us,  and  watch  them.  One  day  I  got  a 
great  surprise  about  the  sheep.  I  had  heard  so 
much  about  their  meekness  that  I  never  dreamed 
that  they  would  fight ;  but  it  turned  out  that  they 
did,  and  they  went  about  it  in  such  a  business-1' ^e 
way,  that  I  could  not  help  smiling  at  them.  I 
suppose  that  like  most  other  animals  they  had  a 
spice  of  wickedness  in  them.  On  th^s  day  a  quarrel 
arose  between  two  sheep  ;  but  instead  of  running 
at  each  other  like  two  dogs  they  went  a  long  distance 
apart,  and  then  came  rushing  at  each  other  with 
lowered  heads.  Their  object  seemed  to  be  to 
break  each  other's  skull ;  but  Miss  Laura  soon 
stopped  them  by  calling  out  and  frightening  them 
apart.  I  thought  that  the  lambs  were  more  inter- 
esting than  the  sheep.  Sometimes  they  fed  quietly 
by  their  mothers'  sides,  and  at  other  times  they 
all  huddled  together  on  the  top  of  some  flat  rock 
or  in  a  bare  place,  and  seemed  to  be  talking  to 
each  other  with  their  heads  close  together.  Sud- 
denly one  would  jump  down,  and  start  for  the 
bushes  or  the  other  side  of  the  pasture.  They 
would  all  follow  pell-mell ;  then  in  a  few  minutes 


284 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


they  would  come  rushing  back  again.  It  was 
pretty  to  see  them  playing  together  and  having  a 
good  time  before  the  sorrowful  day  of  their  death 
came. 


ill 


It  was 
tiaving  a 
eir  death 


CHAPTER  XXX 


A   JEALOUS   OX 

R.  WOOD  had  a  dozen  calves  that  he 
was  raising,  and  Miss  Laura  sometimes 
went  up  to  the  stable  to  see  them. 
Each  calf  was  in  a  crib,  and  it  was  fed  with 
milk.  They  had  gentle,  patient  faces,  and  beau- 
tiful eyes,  and  looked  very  meek,  as  they  stood 
quietly  gazing  about  them,  or  sucking  away  at 
their  milk.  They  reminded  me  of  big,  gentle 
dogs. 

I  never  got  a  very  good  look  at  them  in  their 
cribs,  but  one  day  when  they  were  old  enough  to 
be  let  out,  I  went  up  with  Miss  Laura  to  the  yard 
where  they  were  kept.  Such  queer,  ungainly, 
large-boned  creatures  they  were,  and  such  a  good 
time  they  were  having,  running  and  jumping  and 
throwing  up  their  heels. 

Mrs.  Wood  was  with  us,  and  she  said  that  it 
was  not  good  for  calves  to  be  closely  penned  after 
they  got  to  be  a  few  weeks  old.  They  were  better 
for  getting  out  and  having  a  frolic.  She  stood 
beside  Miss  Laura  for  a  long  time,  watching  the 

calves,  and  laughing  a  great  deal  at  their  awk- 

285 


286 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


ward  gambols.     They  wanted  to  play,  but  they 
did  not  seem  to  know  how  to  use  their  limbs. 

They  were  lean  calves,  and  Miss  Laura  asked 
her  aunt  why  all  the  nice  milk  they  had  taken 
had  not  made  them  fat.  "  The  fat  will  come  all 
in  good  time,"  said  Mrs.  Wood.  "A  fat  calf 
makes  a  poor  cow,  and  a  fat,  small  calf  isn't 
profitable  to  fit  for  sending  to  the  butcher.  It's 
better  to  have  a  bony  one  and  fatten  it.  If  you 
come  here  next  summer,  you'll  see  a  fine  show  of 
young  cattle,  with  fat  sides,  and  big,  open  horns, 
and  a  good  coat  of  hair.  Can  you  imagine,"  she 
went  on,  indignantly,  "that  any  one  could  be 
cruel  enough  to  torture  such  a  harmless  creature 
as  a  calf  ? " 

"No,  indeed,"   replied  Miss  Laura.      "Who 
has  been  doing  it  ? " 

"Who  has  been  doing  it.?"  repeated  Mrs. 
Wood,  bitterly  ;  "  they  are  doing  it  all  the  time. 
Do  you  know  what  makes  the  nice,  white  veal  one 
gets  in  big  cities  ?  The  calves  are  bled  to  death. 
They  linger  for  hours,  and  moan  their  lives  away. 
The  first  time  I  heard  it,  I  was  so  angry  that  I 
cried  for  a  day,  and  made  John  promise  that  he'd 
never  send  another  animal  of  his  to  a  big  city  to 
be  killed.  That's  why  all  of  our  stock  goes  to 
Hoytville,  and  small  country  places.  Oh,  those 
big  cities  are  awful  places,  Laura.  It  seems  to  me 
that  it  makes  people  wicked  to  huddle  them  to- 
gether.    I'd  rather  live  in  a  desert  than  a  city. 

There's  Ch o.     Every   night  since  I've  been 

there  I  pray  to  the  Lord  either  to  change  the  hearts 


A   JEALOUS   OX 


287 


Dut  they 
lbs. 

ra  asked 
d  taken 
:ome  all 
fat  calf 
ilf  isn't 
^r.  It's 
If  you 
show  of 
I  horns, 
le,"  she 
ould  be 
creature 

"Who 

!d  Mrs. 
le  time, 
eal  one 
>  death. 
5  away. 
^  that  I 
at  he'd 
city  to 
joes  to 
I,  those 
s  to  me 
lem  to- 
a  city, 
e  been 
!  hearts 


of  some  of  the  wicked  people  in  it,  or  to  destroy 
them  off  the  face  of  the  earth.  You  know  three 
years  ago  I  got  run  down,  and  your  uncle  said  I'd 
got  to  have  a  change,  so  he  sent  me  off  to  my 
brother's  in  Ch o.  I  stayed  and  enjoyed  my- 
self pretty  well,  for  it  is  a  wonderful  city,  till  one 
day  some  Western  men  came  in,  who  had  been 
visiting  the  slaughter  houses  outside  the  city.  I 
sat  and  listened  to  their  talk,  and  it  seemed  to  me 
that  I  was  hearing  the  description  of  a  great  battle. 
These  men  were  cattle  dealers,  and  had  been  send- 
ing slock  to  Ch o,  and  they  were  furious  that 

men,  in  their  rage  for  wealth,  would  so  utterly 
ignore  and  trample  on  all  decent  and  humane  feel- 
ings  as  to  torture  animals  as  the  Ch o  men 

were  doing. 

"  It  is  too  dreadful  to  repeat  the  sights  they  saw. 
I  listened  till  they  were  describing  Texan  steers 
kicking  in  agony  under  the  torture  that  was  prac- 
tised, and  then  I  gave  a  loud  scream,  and  fainted 
dead  away.  They  had  to  send  for  your  uncle,  and 
he  brought  me  home,  and  for  days  and  days  I 
heard  nothing  but  shouting  and  swearing,  and  saw 
animals  dripping  with  blood,  and  crying  and  moan- 
ing in  their  anguish,  and  now,  Laura,  if  you'd  lay 

down  a  bit  of  Ch o  meat,  and  cover  it  with 

gold,  I'd  spurn  it  from  me.  But  what  am  I  say- 
ing? you're  as  white  as  a  sheet.  Come  and  see 
the  cow  stable.     John's  just  had  it  whitewashed." 

Miss  Laura  took  her  aunt' s  arm,  and  I  walked 
slowly  behind  them.  The  cow  stable  was  a  long 
building,   well-built,   and  with  no  chinks  in  the 


288 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


R    J 


walls,  as  Jenkins's  stable  had.  There  were  large 
windows  where  the  afternoon  sun  came  streaming 
in,  and  a  number  of  ventilators,  and  a  great  many- 
stalls.  A  pipe  of  water  ran  through  the  stalls  from 
one  end  of  the  stable  to  the  other.  The  floor  was 
covered  with  sawdust  and  leaves,  and  the  ceiling 
and  tops  of  the  walls  were  whitewashed.  Mrs. 
Wood  said  that  her  husband  would  not  have  the 
walls  a  glare  of  white  right  down  to  the  floor, 
because  he  thought  it  injured  the  animals'  eyes. 
So  the  lower  parts  of  the  walls  were  stained  a  dark, 
\  brown  color. 

There  were  doors  at  each  end  of  the  stable, 
and  just  now  they  stood  open,  and  a  gentle  breeze 
was  blowing  through,  but  Mrs.  Wood  said  that 
when  the  cattle  stood  in  the  stalls,  both  doors  were 
never  allowed  to  be  open  at  the  same  time.  Mr. 
Wood  was  most  particular  to  have  no  drafts  blow- 
ing upon  his  cattle.  He  would  not  have  them 
chilled,  and  he  would  not  have  them  overheated. 
One  thing  was  as  bad  as  the  other.  And  during 
the  winter  they  were  never  allowed  to  drink  icy 
water.  He  took  the  chill  ofl"  the  water  for  his 
cows,  just  as  Mrs.  Wood  did  for  her  hens. 

"You  know,  Laura,"  Mrs.  Wood  went  on, 
"that  when  cows  are  kept  dry  and  warm,  they 
eat  less  than  when  they  are  cold  and  wet.  They 
are  so  warm-blooded  that  if  they  are  cold,  they 
have  to  eat  a  great  deal  to  keep  up  the  heat  of  their 
bodies,  so  it  pays  better  to  house  and  feed  them 
well.  They  like  quiet,  too.  I  never  knew  that 
till  I  married  your  uncle.     On  our  farm,  the  boys 


A    JEALOUS    CfX 


289 


'ere  large 
streaming 
eat  many 
tails  from 

floor  was 
tie  ceiling 
;d.     Mrs. 

have  the 
the  floor, 
als'  eyes. 
;d  a  dark, 

lie  stable, 
tie  breeze 
said  that 
oors  were 
me.  Mr. 
afts  blow- 
ave  them 
erheated. 
id  during 
drink  icy 
er  for  his 
s. 

went  on, 
arm,  they 
it.  They 
cold,  they 
at  of  their 
eed  them 
icnew  that 
,  the  boys 


always  shouted  and  screamed  at  the  cows  when 
they  were  driving  them,  and  sometimes  they  made 
them  run.  They're  never  allowed  to  do  that  here." 

"  I  have  noticed  how  quiet  this  farm  seems," 
said  Miss  Laura.  • '  You  have  so  many  men  about, 
and  yet  there  is  so  little  noise. " 

"Your  uncle  whistles  a  great  deal,"  said  Mrs. 
Wood.      "  Have  you   noticed  that?     He  whistles 
when  he's  about  his  work,  and  then  he  has  a  call- 
ing whistle  that  nearly  all  of   the  animals  know, 
and  the  men   run  when  they  hear  it.     You'd  see 
every  cow  in  this  stable  turn  its  head,  if  he  whistled 
in  a  certain  way  outside.     He  says  that  he  got  into 
the  way  of  doing  it  when  he  was  a  boy  and  went 
for  his  father's  cows.     He  trained  them  so  that 
he'd  just  stand  in  the  pasture  and  whistle,  and 
they'd  come  to  him.     I  believe  the  first  thing  that 
inclined  me  to  him  was  his  clear,  happy  whistle. 
I'd  hear  him  from  our  house  away  down  on  the 
road,  jogging  along  with  his  cart,  or  driving  in  his 
buggy.     He  says  there  is  no  need  of  screaming  at 
any  animal.     It  only  frightens  and  angers  them. 
They  will  mind  much  better  if  you  speak  clearly 
and  distinctly.     He  says  there  is  only  one  thing 
an  animal  hates  more  than  to  be  shouted  at,  and 
that's  to  be  crept  on — to  have  a  person  sneak  up 
to  it  and  startle  it.     John  says  many  a  man  is 
kicked,  because  he  comes  up  to  his  horse  like  a 
thief.     A  startled  animal' s  first  instinct  is  to  defend 
itself.     A  dog  will  spring  at  you,  and  a  horse  will 
let  his  heels  fly.     John  always  speaks  or  whistles 

to  let  the  stock  know  when  he's  approaching." 

19 


29c 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


' '  Where  is  uncle  this  afternoon  ?  * '  asked  Miss 
Laura. 

"  Oh,  up  to  his  eyes  in  hay.     He's  even  got 
one  of  the  oxen  harnessed  to  a  hay  cart." 

' '  I   wonder   whether    it' s   Duke  ? ' '  said  Miss 
Laura. 

"  Yes,  it  is.     I  saw  the  star  on  his  forehead," 
replied  Mrs.  Wood. 

"I  don't  know  when  I  have  laughed  at  any- 
thing as  much  as  I  did  at  him  the  other  day,"  said 
Miss  Laura.  ' '  Uncle  asked  me  if  I  had  ever  heard 
pf  such  a  thing  as  a  jealous  ox,  and  I  said  no. 
He  said,  'Come  to  the  barnyard,  and  I'll  show 
you  one.'  The  oxen  were  both  there,  Duke  with 
his  broad  face,  and  Bright  so  much  sharper  and 
more  intelligent  looking.  Duke  was  drinking  at 
the  trough  there,  and  uncle  said  :  '  Just  look  at 
him.  Isn't  he  a  great,  fat,  self-satisfied  creature, 
and  doesn't  he  look  as  if  he  thought  the  world 
owed  him  a  living,  and  he  ought  to  get  it  ? '  Then 
he  got  the  card  and  went  up  to  Bright,  and  began 
scratching  him.  Duke  lifted  his  head  from  the 
trough,  and  stared  at  uncle,  who  paid  no  attention 
to  him  but  went  on  carding  Bright,  and  stroking 
and  petting  him.  Duke  looked  so  angry.  He 
left  the  trough,  and  with  the  water  dripping  from 
his  Hps,  went  up  to  uncle,  and  gave  him  a  push 
with  his  horns.  Still  uncle  took  no  notice,  and 
Duke  almost  pushed  him  over.  Then  uncle  left 
off  petting  Bright,  and  turned  to  him.  He  said 
Duke  would  have  treated  him  roughly,  if  he  hadn't. 
I  never  saw  a  creature  look  as  satisfied  as  Duke 


A   JEALOUS    OX 


391 


ed  Miss 

ven  got 

id  Miss 

;head, 

at  any- 
^,"  said 
;r  heard 
aid  no. 
11  show 
ike  with 
per  and 
iking  at 
look  at 
reature, 
le  world 
Then 
d  began 
rom  the 
Lttention 
stroking 
ry.  He 
ng  from 
a  push 
ice,  and 
ncle  left 
He  said 
:  hadn't. 
Ls  Duke 


did,  when  uncle  began  to  card  him.     Bright  didn't 
seem  to  care,  and  only  gazed  calmly  at  them." 

"I've  seen  Duke  do  that  again  and  again,'* 
said  Mrs.  Wood.  He's  the  most  jealous  animal 
that  we  have,  and  it  makes  him  perfectly  misera- 
ble to  have  your  uncle  pay  attention  to  any  animal 
but  him.  What  queer  creatures  these  dumb  brutes 
are.  They're  pretty  much  like  us  in  most  ways. 
They're  jealous  and  resentful,  and  they  can  love 
or  hate  equally  well— and  forgive,  too,  for  that 
matter  ;  and  suffer — how  they  can  suffer,  and  so 
patiently,  too.  Where  is  the  human  being  that 
would  put  up  with  the  tortures  that  animals  endure 
and  yet  come  out  so  patient  ? ' ' 

"  Nowhere,"  said  Miss  Laura,  in  a  low  voice  ; 
"we  couldn't  do  it." 

"  And  there  doesn't  seem  to  be  an  animal," 
Mrs.  Wood  went  on,  "no  matter  how  ugly  and 
repulsive  it  is,  but  what  has  some  lovable  qualities. 
I  have  just  been  reading  about  some  sewer  rats, 

Louise  Michel's  rats " 

•  •  Who  is  she  ?  "  asked  Miss  Laura. 
"  A  celebrated  Frenchwoman,  my  dear  child, 
'  the  priestess  of  pity  and  vengeance, '  Mr.  Stead 
calls  her.  You  are  too  young  to  know  about  her, 
but  I  remember  reading  of  her  in  1872,  during  the 
Commune  troubles  in  France.  She  is  an  anarchist, 
and  she  used  to  wear  a  uniform,  and  shoulder  a 
rifle,  and  help  to  build  barricades.  She  was  ar- 
rested and  sent  as  a  convict  to  one  of  the  French 
penal  colonies.  She  has  a  most  wonderful  love  for 
animals  in  her  heart,  and  when  she  went  home  she 


292 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


III 


took  four  cats  with  her.  She  was  put  into  prison 
again  in  France  and  took  the  cats  with  her.  Rats 
came  about  her  cell  and  she  petted  them  and 
taught  her  cats  to  be  kind  to  them.  Before  she 
got  the  cats  thoroughly  drilled  one  of  them  bit  a 
rat's  paw.  Louise  nursed  the  rat  till  it  got  well, 
then  let  it  down  by  a  string  from  her  window.  It 
went  back  to  its  sewer,  and,  I  suppose,  told  the 
other  rats  how  kind  Louise  had  been  to  it,  for  after 
that  they  came  to  her  cell  without  fear.  Mother 
rats  brought  their  young  ones  and  placed  them  at 
lier  feet,  as  if  to  ask  her  protection  for  them.  The 
most  remarkable  thing  about  them  was  their  affec- 
tion for  each  other.  Young  rats  would  chew  the 
crusts  thrown  to  old  toothless  rats,  so  that  they 
might  more  easily  eat  them,  and  if  a  young  rat 
dared  help  itself  before  an  old  one,  the  others 
punished  it. ' ' 

"That  sounds  very  interesting,  auntie,"  said 
Miss  Laura.      ' '  Where  did  you  read  it  ?  " 

"I  have  just  got  the  magazine,"  said  Mrs. 
Wood  ;  ' '  you  shall  have  it  as  soon  as  you  come  into 
the  house. ' ' 

"  I  love  to  be  with  you,  dear  auntie,"  said  Miss 
Laura,  putting  her  arm  affectionately  around  her, 
as  they  stood  in  the  doorway  ;  ' '  because  you  un- 
derstand me  when  I  talk  about  animals.  I  can't 
explain  it, ' '  went  on  my  dear  young  mistress,  lay- 
ing her  hand  on  her  heart,  '  *  the  feeling  I  have 
here  for  them.  I  just  love  a  dumb  creature,  and 
I  want  to  stop  and  talk  to  every  one  I  see.  Some- 
times I  worry  poor  Bessie  Drury,  and  Tm  so  sorry, 


A   JEALOUS   OX 


293 


to  prison 
r.  Rats 
lem  and 
ifore  she 
lem  bit  a 
^ot  well, 
dow.  It 
told  the 
for  after 
Mother 
them  at 
n.  The 
eir  affec- 
chew  the 
hat  they 
oung  rat 
le  others 

e,"  said 

lid   Mrs. 
:ome  into 

>aid  Miss 
und  her, 
you  un- 
I  can't 
ress,  lay- 
y  I  have 
:ure,  and 
.  Some- 
so  sorry, 


but  I  can't  help  it.  She  says,  "  What  makes  you 
so  silly,  Laura  ?  " 

Miss  Laura  was  standing  just  where  the  sun- 
light shone  through  her  Hght-brown  hair,  and  made 
her  face  allin  a  glow.  I  thought  she  looked  more 
beautiful  than  I  had  ever  seen  her  before,  and  I 
think  Mrs.  Wood  thought  the  same.  She  turned 
around  and  put  both  hands  on  Miss  Laura's 
shoulders.  "  Laura, "  she  said,  earnestly,  "there 
are  enough  cold  hearts  in  the  world.  Don't  you 
ever  stifle  a  warm  or  tender  feeling  toward  a  dumb 
creature.  That  is  your  chief  attraction,  my  child  : 
your  love  for  everything  that  breathes  and  moves. 
Tear  out  the  selfishness  from  your  heart,  if  there  is 
any  thera,  but  let  the  love  and  pity  stay.  And  now 
let  me  talk  a  little  more  to  you  about  the  cows.  I 
want  to  interest  you  in  dairy  matters.  This  stable 
is  new  since  you  were  here,  and  we've  made  a 
number  of  improvements.  Do  you  see  those  bits 
of  rock  salt  in  each  stall  ?  They  are  for  the  cows  to 
lick  whenever  they  want  to.  Now,  come  here, 
and  I'll  show  you  what  we  call  '  The  Black 
Hole.'" 

It  was  a  tiny  stable  off  the  main  one,  and  it 
was  very  dark  and  cool.  "  Is  this  a  place  of  pun- 
ishment ? ' '  asked  Miss  Laura,  in  surprise. 

Mrs.  Wood  laughed  heartily.  "No,  no;  a 
place  of  pleasure.  Sometimes  when  the  flies  are 
very  bad  and  the  cows  are  brought  into  the  yard 
to  be  milked  and  a  fresh  swarm  settles  on  them, 
they  are  nearly  frantic  ;  and  though  they  are  the 
best  cows  in  New  Hampshire,  they  will  kick  a  little. 


li 


294 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


When  they  do,  those  that  are  the  worst  are  brought 
in  here  to  be  milked  where  there  are  no  flies.  The 
others  have  big  strips  of  cotton  laid  over  their 
backs  and  tied  under  them,  and  the  men  brush 
their  legs  with  tansy  tea,  or  water  with  a  little  car- 
bolic acid  in  it.  That  keeps  the  flies  away,  and 
the  cows  know  just  as  well  that  it  is  done  for  their 
comfort,  and  stand  quietly  till  the  milking  is  over. 
I  must  ask  John  to  have  their  nightdresses  put 
on  sometimes  for  you  to  see.  Harry  calls  them 
'  sheeted  ghosts, '  and  they  do  look  queer  enough 
^standing  all  round  the  barnyard  robed  in  white." 


i     if 


5  brought 

ies.   The 

/er  their 

m  brush 

ittle  car- 

vay,  and 

for  their 

;  is  over. 

isses  put 

lis  them 

enough 

white." 


CHAPTER  XXXI 


IN   THE  COW   STABLE 


SN'T  it  a  strange  thing,"  said  Miss  Laura, 
' '  that  a  little  thing  like  a  fly,  can  cause 
so  much  annoyance  to  animals  as  well 
as  to  people  ?  Sometimes  when  I  am  trying  to  get 
more  sleep  in  the  morning,  their  little  feet  tickle 
me  so  that  I  am  nearly  frantic  and  have  to  fly  out 
of  bed." 

*'  You  shall  have  some  netting  to  put  over  your 
bed,"  said  Mrs.  Wood;  "but  suppose,  Laura, 
you  had  no  hands  to  brush  away  the  flies.  Sup- 
pose your  whole  body  was  covered  with  them,  and 
you  were  tied  up  somewhere  and  could  not  get 
loose.  I  can't  imagine  more  exquisite  torture  my- 
self. Last  summer  the  flies  here  were  dreadful. 
It  seems  to  me  that  they  are  getting  worse  and 
worse  every  year,  and  worry  the  animals  more.  I 
believe  it  is  because  the  birds  are  getting  thinned 
out  all  over  the  country.  There  are  not  enough  of 
them  to  catch  the  flies.  John  says  that  the  next 
improvements  we  make  on  the  farm  are  to  be  wire 
gauze  at  all  the  stable  windows  and  screen  doors 

:om  the  hordes  and  cattle. 


keep 


pests 


295 


296 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


"One  afternoon  last  summer,  Mr.  Maxwell's 
mother  came  for  me  to  go  for  a  drive  with  her. 
The  heat  was  intense,  and  when  we  got  down  by 
the  river,  she  proposed  getting  out  of  the  phaeton 
and  sitting  under  the  trees,  to  see  if  it  would  be 
any  cooler.     She  was  driving  a  horse  that  she  had 
got  from  the  hotel  in  the  village,  a  roan  horse  that 
was  clipped,  and  check-reined,  and  had  his  tail 
docked.     I  wouldn't  drive  behind  a  tailless  horse 
now.     Then,   I  wasn't  so  particular.      However, 
I  made  her  unfasten  the  check-rein  before  I'd  set 
^oot  in  the  carriage.     Well,  I  thought  that  horse 
would  go  mad.     He'd  tremble  and   shiver,    and 
look  so  pitifully  at  us.     The  flies  were  nearly  eat- 
ing him  up.     Then  he'd  start  a  little.     Mrs.  Max- 
well had  a  weight  at  his  head  to  hold  him,  but  he 
could  easily  have  dragged  that.  .  He  was  a  good- 
dispositioned  horse,  and   he  didn't   want  to  run 
away,  but  he  could  not  stand  still.     I  soon  jumped 
up  and  slapped  him,  and  rubbed  him  till  my  hands 
were  dripping  wet.     The  poor  brute  was  so  grate- 
ful and  would  keep  touching  my  arm  with  his  nose. 
Mrs.  Maxwell  sat  under  the  trees  fanning  herself 
and  laughing  at  me,  but  I  didn't  care.     How  could 
I  enjoy  myself  with  a  dumb  creature  writhing  in 
pain  before  me  ? 

"A  docked  horse  can  neither  eat  nor  sleep 
comfortably  in  the  fly  season.  In  one  of  our  New 
England  villages  they  have  a  sign  up,  '  Horses 
taken  in  to  grass.  Long  tails,  one  dollar  and  fifty 
cents,  oiiort  taiis,  one  dollar.'  And  it  just  means 
that  the  short-tailed  ones  are  taken  cheaper,  be- 


IN   THE   COW   STABLE 


297 


IX  well's 
ith  her. 
3wn  by 
ahaeton 
)uld  be 
she  had 
rse  that 
his  tail 
s  horse 
)wever, 
I'd  set 
t  horse 
r,    and 
rly  eat- 
;.  Max- 
but  he 
I  good- 
to  run 
umped 
'  hands 
»  grate- 
s  nose, 
herself 
V  could 
ling  in 

-  sleep 
ir  New 
Horses 
id  fifty 
means 
er,  be- 


cause  they  are  so  bothered  by  the  flies  that  they 
can't  eat  much,  while  the  long-tailed  ones  are  able 
to  brush  them  away,  and  eat  in  peace.  I  read 
the  other  day  of  a  Buffalo  coal  dealer's  horse  that 
was  in  such  an  agony  through  flies,  that  he  com- 
mitted suicide.  You  know  animals  will  do  that. 
I've  read  of  horses  and  dogs  drowning  themselves. 
This  horse  had  been  clipped,  and  his  tail  was 
docked,  and  he  was  turned  out  to  graze.  The 
flies  stung  him  till  he  was  nearly  crazy.  He  ran 
up  to  a  picket  fence,  and  sprang  up  on  the  sharp 
spikes.  There  he  hung,  making  no  effort  to  get 
down.  Some  men  saw  him,  and  they  said  it  was 
a  clear  case  of  suicide. 

"  I  would  like  to  have  the  power  to  take  every 
man  who  cuts  off  a  horse's  tail,  and  tie  his  hands, 
and  turn  him  out  in  a  field  in  the  hot  sun,  with 
little  clothing  on,  and  plenty  of  flies  about.  Then 
we  would  see  if  he  wouldn't  sympathize  with  the 
poor,  dumb  beast.  It's  the  most  senseless  thing 
in  the  world,  this  docking  fashion.  They've  a 
few  flimsy  arguments  about  a  horse  with  a  docked 
tail  being  stronger-backed,  like  a  short-tailed 
sheep,  but  I  don't  believe  a  word  of  it.  The 
horse  was  made  strong  enough  to  do  the  work 
he's  got  to  do,  and  man  can't  improve  on  him. 
Docking  is  a  cruel,  wicked  thing.  Now,  there's  a 
ghost  of  an  argument  in  fpvor  of  check-reins,  on 
certain  occasions.  A  fiery,  young  horse  can't  run 
away,  with  an  overdrawn  check,  and  in  speeding 
horses  a  tight  check-rein  will  make  them  hold 
their  heads   up,   and   keep  them    from    choking. 


r" 


298 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


But  I  don't  believe  in  raising  colts  in  a  way  to 
make  them  fiery,  and  I  wish  there  wasn't  a  race 
horse  on  the  face  of  the  earth,  so  if  it  depended  on 
me,  every  kind  of  check-rein  would  go.  It's  a 
pity  we  women  can't  vote,  Laura.  We'd  do  away 
with  a  good  many  abuses." 

Miss  Laura  smiled,  but  it  was  a  very  faint, 
almost  an  unhappy  smile,  and  Mrs.  Wood  said 
hastily,  *  •  Let  us  talk  about  something  else.  Did 
you  ever  hear  that  cows  will  give  less  milk  on  a 
dark  day  than  on  a  bright  one  ? ' ' 
J       "  No  ;    I  never  did,"  said  Miss  Laura. 

"Well,  they  do.  They  are  most  sensitive 
animals.  One  finds  out  all  manners  of  curious 
things  about  animals  if  he  makes  a  study  of  them. 
Cows  are  wonderful  creatures,  I  think,  and  so 
grateful  for  good  usage  that  they  return  every 
scrap  of  care  given  them,  with  interest.  Have 
you  ever  heard  anything  about  dehorning,  Laura  ?' ' 

"Not  much,  auntie.  Does  uncle  approve  of 
it?" 

"No,  indeed.  He'd  just  as  soon  think  of  cut- 
ting their  tails  off,  as  of  dehorning  them.  He 
says  he  guesses  the  Creator  knew  how  to  make  a 
cow  better  than  he  does.  Sometimes  I  tell  John 
that  his  argument  doesn't  hold  good,  for  a  man  in 
some  ways  can  improve  on  nature.  In  the  natural 
course  of  things,  a  cow  would  be  feeding  her  calf 
for  half  a  year,  but  we  take  it  away  from  her,  and 
raise  it  as  well  as  she  could  and  get  an  extra 
quantity  of  milk  from  her  in  addition.  I  don't 
know  what  to  think  myself  about  dehorning.    Mr. 


IN   THE   COW   STABLE 


299 


way  to 

t  a  race 

nded  on 

It's  a 

do  away 

'y  faint, 
>od  said 
e.  Did 
Ik  on  a 


lensitive 
curious 

)f  them, 
and  so 

n  every 
Have 

.aura  ?' ' 

rove  of 

c  of  cut- 
in.  He 
make  a 
ill  John 
man  in 
natural 
ler  calf 
ler,  and 
n  extra 
I  don't 
?.    Mr. 


Windham's  cattle  are  all  polled,  and  he  has  an 
open  space  in  his  barn  for  them,  instead  of  keep- 
ing them  in  stalls,  and  he  says  they're  more  com- 
fortable and  not  so  confined.  I  suppose  in  send- 
ing cattle  to  sea,  it's  necessary  to  take  their  horns 
off,  but  when  they're  going  to  be  turned  out  to 
grass,  it  seems  like  mutilating  them.  Our  cows 
couldn't  keep  the  dogs  away  from  the  sheep  if 
they  didn't  have  their  horns.  Their  horns  are 
their  means  of  defense. ' ' 

"  Do  your  cattle  stand  in  these  stalls  all  win- 
ter ?  "  asked  Miss  Laura. 

"  Oh,  yes,  except  when  they're  turned  out  in 
the  barnyard,  and  then  John  usually  has  to  send 
a  man  to  keep  them  moving  or  they'd  take  cold. 
Sometimes  on  very  fine  days  they  get  out  all  day. 
You  know  cows  aren't  like  horses.  John  says 
they're  like  great  milk  machines.  You've  got  to 
keep  them  quiet,  only  exercising  enough  to  keep 
them  in  health.  If  a  cow  is  hurried  or  worried, 
or  chilled  or  heated,  it  stops  her  milk  yield.  And 
bad  usage  poisons  it.  John  says  you  can't  take  a 
stick  and  strike  a  cow  across  the  back,  without 
her  milk  being  that  much  worse,  and  as  for  drink- 
ing the  milk  that  comes  from  a  cow  that  isn't  kept 
clean,  you'd  better  throw  it  away  and  drink  water. 
When  I  was  in  Chicago,  my  sister-in-law  kept 
complaining  to  her  milkman  about  what  she 
called  the  '  cowy '  smell  to  her  milk.  'It's  the 
animal  odor,  ma'am,'  he  said,  'and  it  can't  be 
helped.  All  milk  smells  like  that. '  'It's  dirt,'  I 
said,  when  she  asked  my  opinion  about  it.      '  I'll 


*  I 


300 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


wager  my  best  bonnet  that  that  man's  cows  are 
kept  dirty.  Their  skins  are  plastered  up  with  filth, 
and  as  the  poison  in  them  can't  escape  that  way, 
it's  coming  out  through  the  milk,  and  you're  help- 
ing to  dispose  of  it.'  She  was  astonished  to  hear 
this,  and  she  got  her  milkman's  address,  and  one 
day  dropped  in  upon  him.  She  said  that  his  cows 
were  standing  in  a  stable  that  was  comparatively 
clean,  but  that  their  bodies  were  in  just  the  state 
that  I  described  them  as  living  in.  She  advised 
the  man  to  card  and  brush  his  cows  every  day,  and 
said  that  he  need  bring  her  no  more  milk. 

• '  That  shows  how  you  city  people  are  imposed 
upon  with  regard  to  your  milk.  I  should  think 
you'd  be  poisoned  with  the  treatment  your  cows 
receive;  and  even  when  your  milk  is  examined 
you  can't  tell  whether  it  is  pure  or  not.  In  New 
York  the  law  only  requires  thirteen  per  cent,  of 
solids  in  milk.  That's  absurd,  for  you  can  feed  a 
cow  on  swill  and  still  get  fourteen  per  cent,  of 
solids  in  it.     Oh  !  you  city  people  are  queer." 

Miss  Laura  laughed  heartily.  "What  a  preju- 
dice you  have  against  large  towns,  auntie." 

"Yes,  I  have,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  honestly. 
*  *  I  often  wish  we  could  break  up  a  few  of  our 
cities,  and  scatter  the  people  through  the  country. 
Look  at  the  lovely  farms  all  about  here,  some  of 
them  with  only  an  old  man  and  woman  on  them. 
The  boys  are  off  to  the  cities,  slaving  in  stores  and 
offices,  and  growing  pale  and  sickly.  It  would 
have  broken  my  heart  if  Harry  had  taken  to  city 
ways.     I  had  a  plain  talk  with  your  uncle  when  I 


IN   THE   COW   STABLE 


301 


)ws  are 
th  filth, 
at  way, 
e  help- 
to  hear 
ind  one 
is  cows 
ratively 
le  state 
idvised 
ay,  and 

nposed 
i  think 
ir  cows 
imined 
n  New 
:ent.  of 
feed  a 
^nt.  of 
r. 
I  preju- 

►nestly. 
of  our 

Duntry. 

ome  of 

I  them. 

es  and 
would 
to  city 

vhen  I 


married  him,  and  said,  'Now,  my  boy's  only  a 
baby,  and  I  want  him  to  be  brought  up  so  that  he 
will  love  country  life.  How  are  we  going  to 
manage  it?' 

"Your  uncle  looked  at  rne  with  a  sly  twinkle 
in  his  eye,  and  said  I  was  a  pretty  fair  specimen 
of  a  country  girl,  suppose  we  brought  up  Harry 
the  way  I'd  been  brought  up.  I  knew  he  was 
only  joking,  yet  I  got  quite  excited.  '  Yes,'  I  said, 
*  Do  as  my  father  and  mother  did.  Have  a  farm 
about  twice  as  large  as  you  can  manage.  Don't 
keep  a  hired  man.  Get  up  at  daylight  and  slave 
till  dark.  Never  take  a  holiday.  Have  the  girls 
do  the  housework,  and  take  care  of  the  hens,  and 
help  pick  the  fruit,  and  make  the  boys  tend  the  rolts 
and  the  calves,  and  put  all  the  money  they  make 
in  the  bank.  Don't  take  any  papers,  for  they 
would  waste  their  time  reading  them,  and  it's  too 
far  to  go  the  postoffice  oftener  than  once  a  week  ; 
and ' — ^but,  I  don't  remember  the  rest  of  what  I 
said.  Anyway  your  uncle  burst  into  a  roar  of 
laughter.  '  Hattie,'  he  said,  '  my  farm's  too  big. 
I'm  going  to  sell  some  of  it,  and  enjoy  myself  a 
little  more.'  That  very  week  he  sold  fifty  acres, 
and  he  hired  an  extra  man,  and  got  me  a  good 
girl,  and  twice  a  week  he  left  his  work  in  the  after- 
noon, and  took  me  for  a  drive.  Harry  held  the 
reins  in  his  tiny  fingers,  and  John  told  him  that 
Dolly,  the  old  mare  we  were  driving,  should  be 
called  his,  and  the  very  next  horse  he  bought 
should  be  called  his,  too,  and  he  should  name  if. 
and  have  it  for  his  own  ;  and  he  would  crWe  him 


302 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


five  sheep,  and  he  should  have  his  own  bank  book, 
and  keep  his  accounts  ;  and  Harry*  understood, 
mere  baby  though  he  was,  and  from  that  day  he 
loved  John  as  his  own  father.  If  my  father  had 
had  the  wisdom  that  John  has,  his  boys  wouldn't 
be  the  one  a  poor  lawyer  and  the  other  a  poor  doc- 
tor in  two  different  cities  ;  and  our  farm  wouldn't 
be  in  the  hands  of  strangers.  It  makes  me  sick  to  go 
there.  I  think  of  my  poor  mother  lying  with  her 
tired  hands  crossed  out  in  the  churchyard,  and  the 
boys  so  far  away,  and  my  father  always  hurrying 
,and  driving  us— I  can  tell  you,  Laura,  the  thing 
cuts  both  ways.  It  isn't  all  the  fault  of  the  boys 
that  they  leave  the  country. ' ' 

Mrs.  Wood  was  silent  for  a  little  while  after  she 
made  this  long  speech,  and  Miss  Laura  said  noth- 
ing. I  took  a  turn  or  two  up  and  down  the  stable, 
thinking  of  many  things.  No  matter  how  happy 
human  beings  seem  to  be,  they  always  have  some- 
thing to  worry  them.  I  was  sorry  for  Mrs.  Wood, 
for  her  face  had  lost  the  happy  look  it  usually  wore. 
However,  she  soon  forgot  her  trouble,  and  said  : 

"Now,  I  must  go  and  get  the  tea.  This  is 
Adele's  afternoon  out." 

"I'll  come,  too,"  said  Miss  Laura,  "for  I 
promised  her  I'd  make  the  biscuits  for  tea  this 
evening  and  let  you  rest."  They  both  sauntered 
slowly  down  the  plank  walk  to  the  house,  and  I 
followed  them. 


ik  book, 
erstood, 
day  he 
ler  had 
wouldn't 
Dor  doc- 
'ouldn't 
ck  to  go 
vith  her 
and  the 
urrying 
e  thing 
16  boys 

fter  she 
d  noth- 
stable, 
happy 
;  some- 
Wood, 
y  wore, 
said  : 
This  is 

"for  I 

2a  this 

mtered 

and  I 


CHAPTER  XXXII 


OUR    RETURN    HOME 


|N  October,  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the 
months,  we  were  obliged  to  go  back  to 
Fairport.  Miss  Laura  could  not  bear  to 
leave  the  farm,  and  her  face  got  very  sorrowful 
when  any  one  spoke  of  her  going  away.  Still,  she 
had  gotten  well  and  strong,  and  was  as  brown  as 
a  berry,  and  she  said  that  she  knew  she  ought  to 
go  home,  and  get  back  to  her  lessons. 

Mr.  Wood  called  October  the  golden  month. 
Everything  was  quiet  and  still,  and  at  night  and 
in  the  morning  the  sun  had  a  yellow,  misty  look. 
The  trees  in  the  orchard  were  loaded  with  fruit, 
and  some  of  the  leaves  were  floating  down,  mak- 
ing a  soft  covering  on  the  ground. 

In  the  garden  there  were  a  great  many  flowers 
in  bloom,  in  flaming  red  and  yellow  colors.  Miss 
Laura  gathered  bunches  of  them  every  day  to  put 
in  the  parlor.  One  day  when  she  was  arranging 
them,  she  said,  regretfully,  "They  will  soon  be 
gone.     I  wish  it  could  always  be  summer. ' ' 

' '  You  would  get  tired  of  it, ' '  said  Mr.  Harry, 
who  had  come  up  softly  behind  her.     "There's 

303 


I 


304 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


!:! 


only  one  place  where  we  could  stand  perpetual 
summer,  and  that's  in  heaven."        • 

"  Do  you  suppose  that  it  will  always  be  sum- 
mer there  ? ' '  said  Miss  Laura,  turning  around,  and 
looking  at  him. 

"I  don't  know.  I  imagine  it  will  be,  but  I 
don't  think  anybody  knows  much  about  it.  We've 
got  to  wait. ' ' 

Miss  Laura's  eyes  fell  on  me.  "  Harry,"  she 
said,  ' '  do  you  think  that  dumb  animals  will  go  to 
heaven  ? ' ' 

,       "I  shall  have  to  say  again,  I  don't  know,"  he 
replied.     ' '  Some  people  hold  that  they  do.     In  a 
Michigan  paper,  the  other  day,  I  came  across  one 
writer's   opinion    on   the    subject.     He  says  that 
among  the  best  people  of  all  ages  have  been  some 
who  believed  in  the  future  life  of  animals.     Homer 
and  the  later  Greeks,  some  of  the  Romans  and 
early  Christians  held  this  view — the  last  believing 
that  God  sent  angels  in  the  shape  of  birds  to  com- 
fort sufferers  for  the  faith.     St.  Francis  called  the 
birds  and  beasts  his  brothers.     Dr.  Johnson  be- 
lieved in  a   future   life  for  animals,  as  also  did 
Wordsworth,    Shelley,  Coleridge,   Jeremy  Taylor, 
Agassiz,  Lamartine,  and  many  Christian  scholars. 
It  seems  as  if  they  ought  to  have  some  compensa- 
tion  for   their   terrible    sufferings   in   this   world. 
Then  to  go  to  heaven,  animals  wo-  \d  only  have 
to  take  up  the  thread  of  their  lives  iiere.     Man  is 
a  god  to  the  lower  c  eadon.     Joe  worships  you, 


1X1 


ii\,ti  cvj    j\ju.    rr\ji.  jxii^j    y  v^ui    irxar^x^i  . 


live  in  and  for  their  masters.     They  hang  on  our 


OUR   RETURN   HOME 


305 


erpetual 

>e  sum- 
nd,  and 

i,  but  I 
We've 

y,"  she 
ill  go  to 

>w,"  he 
.     In  a 
OSS  one 
ys  that 
;n  some 
Homer 
ns  and 
ilieving 
:o  com- 
lled  the 
;on  be- 
Iso  did 
laylor, 
holars. 
ipensa- 
world. 
y  have 
Man  is 
IS  you, 
.niiiials 
on  our 


words  and  looks,  and  are  dependent  on  us  in 
almost  every  tvay.  For  my  own  part,  and  looking 
at  it  from  an  earthly  point  of  view,  I  wish  with  all 
my  heart  that  we  may  find  our  dumb  friends  in 
paradise. ' ' 

"And  in  the  Bible."  said  Miss  Laura,  "ani- 
mals are  often  spoken  of  The  dove  and  the  raven, 
the  wolf  and  the  lamb,  and  the  leopard,  and  the 
cattle  that  Cod  says  are  his,  and  the  little  sparrow 
that  can  t  lall  to  the  ground  without  our  Father's 
knowing  it." 

"  Still,  there's  nothing  definite  about  their  im- 
mortality," said  Mr.  Harry.  "  However,  we've 
got  nothing  to  do  with  that.  If  it's  right  for  them 
to  be  in  heaven,  we'll  find  them  there.  All  we 
have  to  do  now  is  to  deal  with  the  present,  and 
the  Bible  plainly  tells  us  that  'a  righteous  man 
regardeth  the  life  of  his  beast.'  " 

"  I  think  I  would  be  happier  in  heaven  if  dear 
old  Joe  were  there,"  said  Miss  Laura,  looking  wist- 
fully at  me.  "He  has  been  such  a  good  dog. 
Just  think  how  he  has  loved  and  protected  me.  I 
think  I  should  be  lonely  without  him. ' ' 

"  That  reminds  me  of  some  poetry,  or  rather 
c  ggerel,"  said  Mr.   Harry,  "that  I  cutout  of  a 
newspaper  for  you  yesterday  ;  "  and  he  drew  from 
his  pocket  a  little  slip  of  paper,  and  read  this  : 
♦*  Do  doggies  gang  to  heaven,  Dad  ? 
Will  oorauld  Donald  gang? 
For  noo  to  tak'  him,  faither  wi'  us, 
Wad  be  raaist  awfu'  wrang." 

There  was  a  number  of  other  verses,  telling 


U 


11 


20 


3o6 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


how  many  kind  things  old  Donald  the  dog  had 
done  for  his  master's  family,  and  then  it  closed 
with  these  lines  : 

"Withoot  are  dogs.     Eh,  faither,  man, 

'T would  be  an  awfu'  sin  ^ 

To  leave  oor  faithfu'  doggie  there^ 
He's  certain  to  win  in. 

"  Oor  Donald's  no  like  ither  dogs, 
He'll  no  be  lockit  oot. 
If  Donald's  no  let  into  heaven, 
I'll  no  gang  there  one  foot." 

\  "My  sentiments  exactly,"  said  a  merry  voice 
behind  Miss  Laura  and  Mr.  Harry,  and  looking 
up  they  saw  Mr.  Maxwell.  He  was  holding  out 
one  hand  to  them,  and  in  the  other  kept  back  a 
basket  of  large  pears  that  Mr.  Harry  promptly 
took  from  him,  and  offered  to  Miss  Laura.  ♦'  I've 
been  dependent  upon  animals  for  the  most  part  of 
my  comfort  in  this  life,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  "and 
I  sha'n't  be  happy  without  them  in  heaven.  I 
don't  see  how  you  would  get  on  without  Joe,  Miss 
Morris,  and  I  want  my  birds,  and  my  snake,  and 
my  horse — how  can  T  live  without  them  ?  They're 
almost  all  my  life  here." 

' '  If  some  animals  go  to  heaven  and  not  others, 
I  think  that  the  dog  has  the  first  claim, ' '  said  Miss 
Laura.  "  He's  the  friend  of  man — the  oldest  and 
best.  Have  you  ever  heard  the  legend  about  him 
and  Adam  ? ' ' 

' '  No, ' '  said  Mr.  Maxwell. 

"Well,  when  Adam  was  turned  out  of  para- 
dise, all  the  animals  shunned  him,  and  he  sat  bit- 


m 


OUR    RETURN    HOME 


307 


dog  had 
it  closed 


rry  voice 

looking 

ding  out 

t  back  a 

Dromptly 

"I've 

t  part  of 

11,  "and 

iven.     I 

06,  Miss 

ike,  and 

They're 

)t  others, 
aid  Miss 
dest  and 
bout  him 


of  para- 
e  sat  bit- 


terly weeping  with  his  head  between  his  hands, 
when  he  felt  the  soft  tongue  of  some  creature 
gently  touching  him.  He  took  his  hands  from  his 
face,  and  there  was  a  dog  that  had  separated  him- 
self from  all  the  other  animals,  and  was  trying  to 
comfort  him.  He  became  the  chosen  friend  and 
companion  of  Adam,  afterward  of  all  men." 

"There  is  another  legend,"  said  Mr.  Harry, 
"about  our  Saviour  and  a  dog.  Have  you  ever 
heard  it?" 

"We'll  tell  you  that  later."  said  Mr.  Maxwell, 
"when  we  know  what  it  is." 

Mr.  Harry  showed  his  white  teeth  in  an  amused 
smile,  and  began  :  "Once  upon  a  time  our  Lord 
was  going  through  a  town  with  his  disciples.  A 
dead  dog  lay  by  the  wayside,  and  every  one  that 
passed  along  flung  some  offensive  epithet  at  him. 
Eastern  dogs  are  not  like  our  dogs,  and  seemingly 
there  was  nothing  good  about  this  loathsome  crea- 
ture, but  as  our  Saviour  went  by,  he  said,  gently, 
'  Pearls  cannot  equal  the  .whiteness  of  his  teeth."  ** 

"  What  was  the  name  of  that  old  fellow,"  said 
Mr.  Maxwell,  abruptly,  "who  had  a  beautiful 
swan  that  came  every  day  for  fifteen  years,  to  bury 
its  head  in  his  bosom  and  feed  from  his  hand,  and 
would  go  near  no  other  human  being  ? ' ' 

"Saint  Hugh,  of  Lincoln.  We  heard  about 
him  at  the  Band  of  Mercy  the  other  day, ' '  said 
Miss  Laura. 

"I  should  think  that  he  would  have  wanted  to 
have  that  swan  in  heaven  with  him,"  said  Mr. 
Maxwell.    ' '  What  a  beautiful  creature  it  must  have 


i 


3o8 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


!    1 


been.  Speaking  about  animals  going  to  heaven, 
I  dare  say  some  of  them  would  object  to  going,  on 
account  of  the  company  that  they  would  meet  there. 
Think  of  the  dog  kicked  to  death  by  his  master, 
the  horse  driven  into  his  grave,  the  thousands  of 
cattle  starved  to  death  on  the  plains — will  they 
want  to  meet  their  owners  in  heaven  ?  * ' 

"According  to  my  reckoning,  their  owners 
won't  be  there,"  said  Mr.  Harry.  "I  firmly  be- 
lieve that  the  Lord  will  punish  every  man  or  woman 
who  ill-treats  a  dumb  creature  just  as  surely  as  he 
\  will  punish  those  who  ill-treat  their  fellow-creatures. 
If  a  man's  life  has  been  a  long  series  of  cruelty  to 
dumb  animals,  do  you  suppose  that  he  would  en- 
joy himself  in  heaven,  which  will  be  full  of  kind- 
ness to  every  one  ?  Not  he  ;  he'd  rather  be  in  the 
other  place,  and  there  he'll  go,  I  fully  believe." 

"When  you've  quite  disposed  of  all  your  fel- 
low-creatures and  the  dumb  creation,  Harry,  per- 
haps you  will  condescend  to  go  out  into  the  orchard 
and  see  how  your  father  is  getting  on  with  picking 
the  apples,"  said  Mrs.  Wood,  joining  Miss  Laura 
and  the  two  young  men,  her  eyes  twinkling  and 
sparkling  with  amusement. 

• '  The  apples  will  keep,  mother, ' '  said  Mr. 
Harry,  putting  his  arm  around  her.  "  I  just  came 
in  for  a  moment  to  get  Laura.  Come,  Maxwell, 
we'll  all  go." 

"  And  not  another  word  about  animals,"  Mrs. 
Wood  called  after  them,  "  Laura  will  go  crazy 
some  day,  through  thinking  of  their  sufferings,  if 
some  one  doesn't  do  something  to  stop  her." 


OUR    RETURN    HOME 


309 


heaven, 
oing,  on 
et  there, 
master, 
ands  of 
dll  they 

owners 
mly  be- 
:  woman 
ly  as  he 
eatures. 
ruelty  to 
ould  en- 
of  kind- 
DC  in  the 
ieve." 
your  fel- 
rry,  per- 
orchard 
I  picking 
s  Laura 
ing  and 

aid  Mr. 
ist  came 
/laxwell, 

3,"  Mrs. 
JO  crazy 
wrings,  if 
r." 


Miss  Laura  turned  around  suddenly.  "  Dear 
AuntHattie,"  she  said,  "you  must  not  say  that. 
I  am  a  coward,  I  know,  about  hearing  of  animals* 
pains,  but  I  must  get  over  it.  I  want  to  know  how 
they  suffer.  I  ought  to  knov,  for  when  I  get  to  be 
a  woman,  I  am  going  to  do  all  I  can  to  help  them. ' ' 

"  And  I'll  join  you,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  stretch- 
ing out  his  hand  to  Miss  Laura,  She  did  not 
smile,  but  looking  very  earnestly  at  him,  she  held 
it  clasped  in  her  own.  "You  will  help  me  to  care 
for  them,  will  you  .^ "  she  said. 

"Yes,  I  promise,"  he  said,  gravely.  "I'll 
give  myself  to  the  service  of  dumb  animals,  if  you 
will." 

"And  I,  too,"  said  Mr.  Harry,  in  his  deep 
voice,  laying  his  hand  across  theirs.  Mrs.  Wood 
stood  looking  at  their  three  fresh,  eager,  young 
faces,  with  tears  in  her  eyes.  Just  as  they  all 
stood  silently  for  an  instant,  the  old  village  clergy- 
man came  into  the  room  from  the  hall.  He  must 
have  heard  what  they  said,  for  before  they  could 
move  he  had  laid  his  hands  on  their  three  brown 
heads.  ' '  Bless  you,  my  children, ' '  he  said,  ' '  God 
will  lift  up  the  light  of  his  countenance  upon  you, 
for  you  have  given  yourselves  to  a  noble  work. 
In  serving  dumb  creatures,  you  are  ennobling  the 
human  race." 

Then  he  sat  down  in  a  chair  and  looked  at 
them.  He  was  a  venerable  old  man,  and  had 
long,  white  hair,  and  the  Woods  thought  a  great 
deal  of  him.  He  had  come  to  get  Mrs.  Wood  to 
make  some  nourishing  dishes  for  a  sick  woman  in 


3IO 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


the  village,  and  while  he  was  talking  to  her,  Miss 
Laura  and  the  two  young  men  went  out  of  the 
house.  They  hurried  across  the  veranda  and 
over  the  lawn,  talking  and  laughing,  and  enjoy- 
ing themselves  as  only  happy  young  people  can, 
and  with  not  a  trace  of  their  seriousness  of  a  few 
moments  before  on  their  faces. 

They  were  going  so  fast  that  they  ran  right 
into  a  flock  of  geese  that  were  coming  up  the  lane. 
They  were  driven  by  a  little  boy  called  Tommy, 
the  son  of  one  of  Mr.  Wood's  farm  laborers,  and 
they  were  chattering  and  gabbling,  and  seemed 
very  angry.  "  What's  all  this  about .?  "  said  Mr. 
Harry,  stopping  and  looking  at  the  boy.  "  What's 
the  matter  with  your  feathered  charges,  Tommy 
my  lad.?" 

"If  it's  the  geese  you  mean,"  said  the  boy, 
half  crying  and  looking  very  much  put  out,  "it's 
all  them  nasty  potatoes.  They  won't  keep  away 
from  them." 

"So  the  potatoes  chase  the  geese,  do  they," 
said  Mr.  Maxwell,  teasingly. 

"No,  no,"  said  the  child,  pettishly;  "Mr. 
Wood  he  sets  me  to  watch  the  geese,  and  they 
runs  in  among  the  buckwheat  and  the  potatoes, 
and  I  tries  to  drive  them  out,  and  they  doesn't 
want  to  come,  and,"  shamefacedly,  "I  has  to 
switch  their  feet,  and  I  hates  to  do  it,  'cause  I'm 
a  Band  of  Mercy  boy. ' ' 

"Tommy,  my  son,"  said  Mr.  Maxwell,  sol- 
emnly, "you  will  go  right  to  heaven  when  you 
die,  and  your  geese  will  go  with  you." 


■"~1«- 


OUR    RETURN    HOME 


311 


"Hush,  hush,"  said  Miss  Laura;  "don't 
tease  him."  and  putting  her  arm  on  the  child's 
shoulder,  she  said,  "  You  are  a  good  boy.  Tommy, 
not  to  want  to  hurt  the  geese.  Let  me  see  your 
switch,  dear." 

He  showed  her  a  little  stick  he  had  in  his 
hand,  and  she  said,  "I  don't  think  you  could 
hurt  them  much  with  that,  and  if  they  will  be 
naughty  and  steal  the  potatoes,  you  have  to  drive 
them  out.  Take  some  of  my  pears  and  eat  them, 
and  you  will  forget  your  trouble."  The  child 
took  the  fruit,  and  Miss  Laura  and  the  two  young 
men  went  on  their  way,  smiling,  and  looking 
over  their  shoulders  at  Tommy,  who  stood  in  the 
lane,  devouring  his  pears  and  keeping  one  eye  on 
the  geese  that  had  gathered  a  little  in  front  of  him, 
and  were  gabbling  noisily  and  having  a  kind  of 
indignation  meeting,  because  they  had  been 
driven  out  of  the  potato  field. 

Tommy's  father  and  mother  lived  in  a  little 
house  down  near  the  road.  Mr.  Wood  never  had 
his  hired  men  live  in  his  own  house.  He  had  two 
small  houses  for  them  to  live  in,  and  they  were 
required  to  keep  them  as  neat  as  Mr.  Wood's  own 
house  was  kept.  He  said  that  he  didn't  see  why 
he  should  keep  a  boarding  house,  if  he  was  a 
farmer,  nor  why  his  wife  should  wear  herself  out 
waiting  on  strong,  hearty  men,  that  had  just  as 
soon  take  care  of  themselves.  He  wished  to  have 
his  own  family  about  him,  and  it  was  better  for 
his  men  to  have  some  kind  of  family  life  for 
themselves.     If  one  of  his  men  was  unmarried,  he 


I 

I 


312 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


boarded  with  the  married  one,   but   slept  in  his 
own  house. 

On  this  October  day  we  found  Mr.  Wood  hard 
at  work  under  the  fruit  trees.  He  had  a  good 
many  different  kind  of  apples.  Enormous  red 
ones,  and  long,  yellow  ones  that  they  called  pip- 
pins, and  little  brown  ones,  and  smooth-coated 
sweet  ones,  and  bright  red  ones,  and  others,  more 
than  I  could  mention.  Miss  Laura  often  pared  one 
and  cut  off  little  bits  for  me,  for  I  always  wanted 
to  eat  whatever  I  saw  her  eating. 

Just  a  few  days  after  this,  Miss  Laura  and  I 
^turned  to  Fairport,  and  some  of  Mr.  Wood's 
apples  traveled  along  with  us,  for  he  sent  a  good 
many  to  the  Boston  market.  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood 
came  to  the  station  to  see  us  off.  Mr.  Harry 
could  not  come,  for  he  had  left  Riverdale  the  day 
before  to  go  back  to  his  college.  Mrs.  Wood  said 
that  she  would  be  very  lonely  without  her  two 
young  people,  and  she  kissed  Miss  Laura  over  and 
over  again,  and  made  her  promise  to  come  back 
again  the  next  summer. 

I  was  put  in  a  box  in  the  express  car,  and  Mr. 
Wood  told  the  agent  that  if  he  knew  what  was 
good  for  him  he  would  speak  to  me  occasionally, 
for  I  was  a  very  knowing  dog,  and  if  he  didn't 
treat  me  well,  I'd  be  apt  to  write  him  up  in  the 
newspapers.  The  agent  laughed,  and  quite  often 
on  the  way  to  Fairport,  he  came  to  my  box  and 
spoke  kindly  to  me.  So  I  did  not  get  so  lonely  and 
*»giitt.aiv-vi  iio  1  uiu  uii  my  way  co  Kiveraaie. 

How  glad  the  Morrises  were  to  see  us  coming 


OUR    RETURN    HOME 


313 


:  in  his 

)d  hard 
a  good 
)us  red 
cd  pip- 
-coated 
>,  more 
red  one 
wanted 

and  I 
Vood's 
1  good 
Wood 
Harry 
he  day 
)d  said 
er  two 
er  and 
i  back 


back.  The  boys  had  all  gotten  home  before  us, 
and  such  a  fuss  as  they  did  make  over  their  sister. 
They  loved  her  dearly,  and  never  wanted  her 
to  be  long  away  from  them.  I  was  rubbed  and 
stroked,  and  had  to  run  about  offering  my  paw  to 
every  one.  Jim  and  little  Billy  licked  my  face, 
and  Bella  croaked  out,  "Glad  to  see  you,  Joe. 
Had  a  good  time  ?     How's  your  health  ?" 

We  soon  settled  down  for  the  winter.  Miss 
Laura  began  going  to  school,  and  came  home 
every  day  with  a  pile  of  books  under  her  arm. 
The  summer  in  the  country  had  done  her  so  much 
good  that  her  mother  often  looked  at  her  fondly, 
and  said  the  white-faced  child  she  sent  away  had 
come  home  a  nut-brown  maid. 


id  Mr. 
It  was 
)nally, 
didn't 
in  the 
:  often 
X  and 
lyand 


w^ 


3m  mg 


i.    * 

t, 
IS 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

PERFORMING   ANIMALS 

WEEK  or  two  after  we  got  home,  I  heard 
the  Morris  boys  talking  about  an  Italian 
who  was  coming  to  Fairport  with  a  troupe 
of  trained  animals,  and  I  could  see  for  myself, 
whenever  I  went  to  town,  great  flaming  pictures 
on  the  fences,  of  monkeys  sitting  at  tables,  dogs, 
and  ponies,  and  goats  climbing  ladders,  and  roll- 
ing balls,  and  doing  various  tricks.  I  wondered 
very  much  whether  they  would  be  able  to  do  all 
those  extraordinary  things,  but  it  turned  out  that 
they  did. 

The  Italian's  name  was  Bellini,  and  one  after- 
noon the  whole  Morris  family  went  to  see  him  and 
his  animals,  and  when  they  came  home,  I  heard 
them  talking  about  it.  "I  wish  you  could  have 
been  there,  Joe, ' '  said  Jack,  pulling  up  my  paws 
to  rest  on  his  knees.  "Now  listen,  old  fellow, 
and  I'll  tell  you  all  about  it.  First  of  all,  there 
was  a  perfect  jam  in  the  town  hall.  I  sat  up  in 
front,  with  a  lot  of  fellows,  and  had  a  splendid 
view.      The  old  Italian  rame  r»nt  Hrf^qcprl  in  hie  K^o* 

suit  of  clothes — black  broadcloth,  flower  in  his  but- 
314 


f 


PERFORMING   ANIMALS 


315 


tonhole,  and  so  on.  He  made  a  fine  bow,  and  he 
said  he  was  '  pleased  too  see  ze  fine  audience,  and 
he  was  going  to  show  zem  ze  fine  animals,  ze  finest 
animals  in  ze  world.'  Then  he  shook  a  little  whip 
that  he  carried  in  his  hand,  and  he  said  '  zat  zat 
whip  didn't  mean  zat  he  was  cruel.  He  cracked 
it  to  show  his  animals  when  to  begin,  end,  or 
change  their  tricks.'  Some  boy  yelled,  'Rats! 
you  do  whip  them  sometimes,'  and  the  old  man 
made  another  bow,  and  said,  '  Sairteenly,  he  whip- 
ped zem  just  as  ze  mammas  whip  ze  naughty  boys, 
to  make  zem  keep  still  when  zey  was  noisy  or 
stubborn.' 

• '  Then  everybody  laughed  at  the  boy,  and  the 
Italian  said  the  performance  would  begin  by  a 
grand  procession  of  all  the  animals,  if  some  lady 
would  kindly  step  up  to  the  piano  and  play  a 
march.  Nina  Smith — you  know  Nina,  Joe,  the 
girl  that  has  black  eyes  and  wears  blue  ribbons, 
and  lives  around  the  corner — stepped  up  to  the 
piano,  and  banged  out  a  fine  loud  march.  The 
doors  at  the  side  of  the  platform  opened,  and  out 
came  the  animals,  two  by  two,  just  like  Noah's 
ark.  There  was  a  pony  with  a  monkey  walking 
beside  it  and  holding  on  to  its  mane,  another  mon- 
key on  a  pony's  back,  two  monkeys  hand  in  hand, 
a  dog  with  a  parrot  on  his  back,  a  goat  harnessed 
to  a  little  carriage,  another  goat  carrying  a  bird- 
cage in  its  mouth  with  two  canaries  inside,  differ- 
ent kinds  of  cats,  some  doves  and  pigeons,  half  a 
dozen  white  rats  with  red  harness,  and  dragging  a 
little  chariot  with  a  monkey  in  it,  and  a  common 


'3i6 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


I  I- 


white  gander  that  came  in  last  of   all,  and  did 
nothing  but  follow  one  of  the  ponies  about. 

"The  Italian  spoke  of  the  gander,  and  said  it 
was  a  stupid  creature,  and  could  learn  no  tricks, 
and  he  only  kept  it  on  account  of  its  affection  for 
the  pony.      He  had  got  them  both  on  a  Vermont 
farm,  when  he  was  looking  for  show  animals.     The 
pony's  master  had  made  a  pet  of  him,  and  had 
taught  him  to  come  whenever  he  whistled  for  him. 
Though  the  pony  was  only  a  scrub  of  a  creature, 
he  had  a  gentle  disposition,  and  every  other  ani- 
ii^al  on  the  farm  liked  him.     A  gander,  in  particu- 
lar, had  such  an  admiration  for  him   that  he  fol- 
lowed him  wherever  he  went,  and  if  he  lost  him 
for  an  instant,  he  would  mount  one  of  the  knolls 
on  the  farm  and  stretch  out  his  neck  looking  for 
him.     When  he  caught  sight  of  him,  he  gabbled 
with  delight,  and  running  to  him,  waddled  up  and 
down  beside  him.     Every  little  while  the  pony  put 
his  nose  down,  and  seemed  to  be  having  a  con- 
versation with  the  goose.     If  the  farmer  whistled 
for  the  pony  and  he  started  to  run  to  him,  the  gan- 
der, knowing  he   could  not  keep  up,  would  seize 
the  pony's  tail  in  his  beak,  and  flapping  his  wings, 
would  get  along  as  fast  as  the  pony  did.     And  the 
pony  never  kicked  him.     The  Italian  saw  that  this 
pony  would  be  a  good  one  to  train  for  the  stage, 
so  he  offered  the  farmer  a  large  price  for  him,  and 
took  him  away. 

"  Oh,  Joe,  I  forgot  to  say,  that  by  this  time  all 
the  animals  had  been  sent  off  the  stage  except  the 
pony  and  the  gander,  and  they  stood  looking  at 


PERFORMING    ANIMALS 


317 


the  Italian  while  he  talked.  I  never  saw  anything 
as  human  in  dumb  animals  as  that  pony's  face. 
He  looked  as  if  he  understood  every  word  that  his 
master  was  saying.  After  this  story  was  over,  the 
Italian  made  another  bow,  and  then  told  the  pony 
to  bow.  He  nodded  his  head  at  the  people,  and 
they  all  laughed.  Then  the  Italian  asked  him  to 
favor  us  with  a  waltz,  and  the  pony  got  up  on  his 
hind  legs  and  danced.  You  should  have  seen  that 
gander  skirmishing  around,  so  as  to  be  near  the 
pony  and  yet  keep  out  of  the  way  of  his  heels. 
We  fellows  just  roared,  and  we  would  have  kept 
him  dancing  all  the  afternoon  if  the  Italian  hadn't 
begged  '  ze  young  gentlemen  not  to  make  ze  noise, 
but  let  ze  pony  do  ze  rest  of  his  tricks.'  Pony 
number  two  came  on  the  stage,  and  it  was  too  queer 
for  anything  to  see  the  things  the  two  of  them  did. 
They  helped  the  Italian  on  with  his  coat,  they 
pulled  off  his  rubbers,  they  took  his  coat  away  and 
brought  him  a  chair,  and  dragged  a  table  up  to  it. 
They  brought  him  letters  and  papers,  and  rang 
bells,  and  rolled  barrels,  and  swung  the  Italian  in 
a  big  swing,  and  jumped  a  rope,  and  walked  up 
and  down  steps — they  just  went  around  that  stage 
as  handy  with  their  teeth  as  two  boys  would  be 
with  their  hands,  and  they  seemed  to  understand 
every  word  their  master  said  to  them. 

"  The  best  trick  of  all  was  telling  the  time  and 
doing  questions  in  arithmetic.  The  Italian  pulled 
his  watch  out  of  his  pocket  and  showed  it  to  the 
first  pony,  whose  name  was  Diamond,  and  said, 
*  What  time  is  it  ? '     The  pony  looked  at  it,  then 


3i8 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


scratched  four  times  with  his  forefoot  on  the  plat- 
form.      The      Italian    said,     'Zat's     good— four 
o'clock.     But  it's  a  few  minutes   after  four — how 
many  ? '      The  pony  scratched  again  five  times. 
The  Italian  showed  his  watch  to  the  audience,  and 
said  that  it  was  just  five  minutes  past  four.     Then 
he  asked  the  pony  how  old  he  was.     He  scratched 
four  times.      That  meant  four  years.      He  asked 
him  how  many  days  in  a  week  there  were  ;    how 
many  months  in  a  year  ;  and  he  gave  him   some 
questions  in   addition    and    subtraction,   and  the 
pony  answered  them  all  correctly.     Of  course,  the 
Italian  was  giving  him  some  sign  ;  but,  though  we 
watched  him  closely,  we  couldn't  make  out  what 
it  was.     At  last,  he  told  the  pony  that  he  had  been 
very  good,  and  had  done   his  lessons  well  ;    if  it 
would  rest  him,  he  might  be  naughty  a  little  while. 
All  of  a  sudden  a  wicked  look  came  into  the  crea-' 
ture'seyes.       He  turned  around,  and  kicked  up 
his  heels  at  his  master,  he  pushed  over  the  table 
and   chairs,    and   knocked    down    a    blackboard 
where  he  had  been   rubbing  out  figures  with  a 
sponge  held  in  his  mouth.    The  Italian  pretended  to 
be  cross,  and  said,  '  Come,  come  ;  this  won't  do,' 
and  he  called  the  other  pony  to  him,  and  told  him 
to  take  that  troublesome  fellow  off  the  stage.     The 
second   one   nosed    Diamond,    and   pushed   him 
about,  finally  bit  him  by  the  ear,  and   led   him 
squealing  off  the  stage.      The  gander  followed, 
gabbling   as  fast  as  he  could,  and  there  was  a 
reg"ular  roar  nf  nnnlnnco 

"After  that,   there  were  ladders  brought  in. 


PERFORMING   ANIMALS 


319 


Joe,  and  clogs  came  on  ;    not  thoroughbreds,   but 
curs  something  like  you.    The  Italian  says  he  can't 
teach  tricks  to  pedigree  animals  as  well  as  to  scrubs. 
Those  dogs    jumped   the  ladders,    and    climbed 
them,  and  went  through  them,  and  did  all  kinds 
of  things.     The  man  cracked   his  whip  once,  and 
they  began  ;  twice,  and  they  did  backward  what 
they   had  done  forward  ;    three  dmes,   and  they 
stopped,    and  every  animal,  dogs,  goats,    ponies, 
and  monkeys,  after  they  had  finished  their  tricks, 
ran  up  to  their  master,  and  he  gave  them  a  lump 
of  sugar.     They  seemed  fond   of  him,  and  often 
when  they  weren't  performing   went  up  to  him, 
and  licked  his  hands  or  his  sleeve.      There  was 
one  boss  dog,  Joe,  with  a  head  like  yours.     Bob, 
they  called  him,  and  he  did  all  his  tricks  alone. 
The  Italian  went  off  the  stage,  and  the  dog  came 
on  and  made  his  bow,  and  climbed  his  ladders, 
and    jumped  his   hurdles,    and  went  off    again. 
The  audience  howled  for  an  encore,  and  didn't  he 
come  out  alone,  make  another  bow,  and  retire.     I 
saw  old  Judge  Brown  wiping  the  tears  from  his 
eyes,   he'd  laughed  so   much.     One  of   the  last 
tricks  was  with  a  goat,  and  the  Italian  said  it  was 
the  best  of  all,  because  the  goat  is   such  a  hard 
animal  to  teach.     He  had  a  big  ball,  and  the  goat 
got  on  it  and  rolled  it  across  the  stage  without  get- 
ting off.     He  looked  as  nervous  as  a  cat,  shaking 
his  old  beard,  and  trying  to  keep  his  four  hoofs 
close  enough  together  to  keep  him  on  the  ball. 

'■We  had  a  funny  little  play  at  the  end  of  the 
performance.     A  monkey  dressed  as  a  lady,  in  a 


320 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


white  satin  suit  and  a  bonnet  ^vith  a  white  veil, 
came  on  the  stage.     She  was  Miss  Green  and  the 
dog  Bob  was  going  to  elope  with  her.     He  was  all 
rigged  out  as  Mr.  Smith,  and  had  on  a  light  suit 
of  clothes,  and  a  tall  hat  on  the  side  of  his  head, 
high  collar,  long  cuffs,  and  he  carried  a  cane.    He 
was  a  regular   dude.       He   stepped   up  to  Miss 
Green  on  his  hind  legs,  and  helped  her  on  to  a 
pony's  back.     The  pony  galloped  off  the  stage  ; 
then  a  crowd  of  monkeys,  chattering  and  wring- 
ing their  hands,  came  on.      Mr.  Smith  had  run 
away  with  their  child.     They  were  all  dressed  up, 
too.     There  were  the  father  and  mother,  with  gray 
wigs  and  black  clothes,  and  the  young  Greens  in 
bibs   and  tuckers.     They   were   a  queer-looking 
crowd.      While  they  were  going  on  in  this  way, 
the  pony  trotted  back  on  the  stage  ;    and  they  all 
flew  at  him  and  pulled  off  their  daughter  from  his 
back,  and  laughed  and  chattered,  and  boxed  her 
ears,  and  took  off  her  white  veil  and  her  satin 
dress,  and  put  on  an  old  brown  thing,  and  some 
of  them  seized  the  dog,  and  kicked  his  hat,  and 
broke  his  cane,  and  stripped  his  clothes  off,   and 
threw  them  in  a  corner,  and  bound  his  legs  with 
cords.     A  goat  came  on,  harnessed  to  a  little  cart, 
and  they  threw  the  dog  in  it,  and  wheeled  him 
aroun*d  the  stage  a  few  times.      Then  they  took 
him  out  and  tied  him  to  a  hook  in  the  wall,  and 
the  goat  ran  off  the  stage,  and  the  monkeys  ran 
to  one  side,  and  one  of  them  pulled  out  a  Httle 
revolver,  pointed  it  at  the  dog,  fired,  and  he  drop- 
ped down  as  if  he  was  dead. 


PERFORMING   ANIMALS 


321 


"The  monkeys  stood  looking  at  him,  and 
then  there  was  the  most  awful  hullabaloo  you  ever 
heard.  Such  a  barking  and  yelping,  and  half  a 
dozen  dogs  rushed  on  the  stage,  and  didn't  they 
trundle  those  monkeys  about.  They  nosed  them, 
and  pushed  them,  and  shook  them,  till  they  all 
ran  away,  all  but  Miss  Green,  who  sat  shivering 
in  a  corner.  After  a  while,  she  crept  up  to  the 
dead  dog,  pawed  him  a  little,  and  didn't  he  jump 
up  as  much  alive  as  any  of  them  ?  Everybody  in 
the  room  clapped  and  shouted,  and  then  the  cur- 
tain dropped,  and  the  thing  was  over.  I  wish 
he'd  give  another  performance.  Early  in  the 
morning  he  has  to  go  to  Boston." 

Jack  pushed  my  paws  from  his  knees  and  went 
outdoors,  and  I  began  to  think  that  I  would  very 
much  like  to  see  those  performing  animals.  It 
was  not  yet  tea  time,  and  I  would  have  plenty  of 
time  to  take  a  run  down  to  the  hotel  where  they 
were  staying  ;  so  I  set  out.  It  was  a  lovely 
autumn  evening.  The  sun  was  going  down  in  a 
haze,  and  it  was  quite  warm.  Earlier  in  the  day  I 
had  heard  Mr.  Morris  say  that  this  was  our  Indian 
summer,  and  that  we  should  soon  have  cold 
weather. 

Fairport  was  a  pretty  little  town,  and  from  the 
principal  street  one  could  look  out  upon  the  blue 
water  of  the  bay  and  see  the  island  opposite,  which 
was  quite  deserted  now,  for  all  the  summer  visitors 
had  gone  home,  and  the  Island  House  was  shut  up. 

I  was  running  down  one  of  the  steep  side 
streets  that  led  to  the  water  when  I  met  a  heavily- 


21 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


laden  cart  coming  up.  It  must  have  been  coming 
from  one  of  the  vessels,  for  it  was  full  of  strange- 
looking  boxes  and  packages.  A  fine-looking  nerv- 
ous horse  was  drawing  it,  and  he  was  straining 
every  nerve  to  get  it  up  the  steep  hill.  His  driver 
was  a  burly,  hard-faced  man,  and  instead  of  let- 
ting his  horse  stop  a  minute  to  rest  he  kept  urging 
him  forward.  The  poor  horse  kept  looking  at  his 
master,  his  eyes  almost  starting  from  his  head  in 
terror.  He  knew  that  the  whip  was  about  to  de- 
scend on  his  quivering  body.  And  so  it  did,  and 
t^ere  was  no  one  by  to  interfere.  No  one  but  a 
woman  in  a  ragged  shawl  who  would  have  no  in- 
fluence with  the  driver.  There  was  a  very  good 
humane  society  in  Fairport,  and  none  of  the  team- 
sters dared  ill-use  their  horses  if  any  of  the  mem- 
bers were  near.  This  was  a  quiet  out-of-the-way 
street,  with  only  poor  houses  on  it,  and  the  man 
probably  knew  that  none  of  the  members  of  the 
society  would  be  likely  to  be  living  in  them.  He 
whipped  his  horse,  and  whipped  him,  till  every 
lash  made  my  heart  ache,  and  if  I  had  dared  I 
would  have  bitten  him  severely.  Suddenly,  there 
was  a  dull  thud  in  the  street.  The  horse  had 
fallen  down.  The  driver  ran  to  his  head,  but  he 
was  quite  dead.  "Thank  God  !  ' '  said  the  poorly- 
dressed  woman,  bitterly  ;  "  one  more  out  of  this 
world  of  misery."  Then  she  turned  and  went 
down  the  street.  I  was  glad  for  the  horse.  He 
would  never  be  frightened  or  miserable  ae-ain.  and 
I  went  slowly  on,  thinking  that  death  is  the  best 
thing  that  can  happen  to  tortured  animals. 


P 


PERFORMING    ANIMALS 


323 


I 


The  Fairport  hotel  was  built  right  in  the  cen- 
tre of  the  town,  and  the  shops  and  houses  crowded 
quite  close  about  it.  It  was  a  high,  brick  build- 
ing, and  it  was  called  the  Fairport  House.  As  I 
was  running  along  the  sidewalk,  I  heard  some  one 
speak  to  me,  and  looking  up  I  saw  Charlie  Mon- 
tague. I  had  heard  the  Morrises  say  that  his 
parents  were  staying  at  the  hotel  for  a  few  weeks, 
while  their  house  was  being  repaired.  He  had  his 
Irish  setter,  Brisk,  with  him,  and  a  handsome  dog 
he  was,  as  he  stood  waving  his  silky  tail  in  the  sun- 
light. Charlie  patted  me,  r.nd  then  he  and  his 
dog  went  into  the  hotel.  I  turned  into  the  stable 
yard.  It  was  a  small,  choked-up  place,  and  as  I 
picked  my  way  under  the  cabs  and  wagons  stand- 
ing in  the  yard,  I  wondered  why  the  hotel  people 
didn't  buy  some  of  the  old  houses  near  by,  and 
tear  them  down,  and  make  a  stable  yard  worthy  of 
such  a  nice  hotel.  The  hotel  horses  were  just 
getting  rubbed  down  after  their  day's  work,  and 
others  were  coming  in.  The  men  were  talking 
and  laughing,  and  there  was  no  sign  of  strange 
animals,  so  I  went  around  to  the  back  of  the  yard. 
Here  they  were,  in  an  empty  cow  stable,  under  a 
hay  loft.  There  were  two  Uttle  ponies  tied  up  in  a 
stall,  two  goats  beyond  them,  and  dogs  and  mon- 
keys in  strong  traveling  cages.  I  stood  in  the 
doorway  and  stared  at  them.  I  was  sorry  for  the 
dogs  to  be  shut  up  on  such  a  lovely  evening,  but 
I  suppose  their  master  was  afraid  of  their  getting 
lost,  or  being  stolen,  if  he  let  them  loose. 

They  all   seemed  very  friendly.     The  ponies 


ll'Ht^tf|IBW1W3!»g»BlMI'I^JBg!^V''V^V'JiaisBt-II|JU»aBi'!l^^ 


324 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


turned  around  and  looked  at  me  with  their  gentle 
eyes,  and  then  went  on  munching  their  hay.  I  won- 
dered very  much  where  the  gander  was,  and  went 
a  little  farther  into  the  stable.  Something  white 
raised  itself  up  out  of  the  brownest  pony's  crib, 
and  there  was  the  gander  close  up  beside  the  open 
mouth  of  his  friend.  The  monkeys  make  a  jab- 
bering noise,  and  held  on  to  the  bars  of  their  cage 
with  their  little  black  hands,  while  they  looked  out 
at  me.  The  dogs  sniffed  the  air,  and  wagged  their 
tails,  and  tried  to  put  their  muzzles  through  the 
bars  of  their  cage.  I  liked  the  dogs  best,  and  I 
wanted  to  see  the  one  they  called  Bob,  so  I  went 
up  quite  close  to  them.  There  were  two  little 
white  dogs,  something  like  Billy,  two  mongrel 
spaniels,  an  Irish  terrier,  and  a  brown  dog  asleep 
in  the  corner,  that  I  knew  must  be  Bob.  He  did 
look  a  Httle  like  me,  but  he  was  not  quite  so  ugly, 
for  he  had  his  ears  and  his  tail. 

While  I  was  peering  through  the  bars  at  him, 
a  man  came  in  the  stable.  He  noticed  me  the 
first  thing,  but  instead  of  driving  me  out,  he  spoke 
kindly  to  me,  in  a  language  that  I  did  not  under- 
stand. So  I  knew  that  he  was  the  Italian.  How 
glad  the  animals  were  to  see  him  i  The  gander  flut- 
tered out  of  his  nest,  the  ponies  pulled  at  their 
halters,  the  dogs  whined  and  tried  to  reach  his 
hands  to  lick  them,  and  the  monkeys  chattered  with 
delight.  He  laughed  and  talked  back  to  them  in 
queer,  soft-sounding  words.  Then  he  took  out  of  a 
bag  on  his  arm,  bones  for  the  dogs,  nuts  and  cakes 
for  the  monkeys,  nice,  juicy  carrots  for  the  ponies, 


r 


PERFORMING    ANIMALS 


325 


some  green  stuff  for  the  goats,  and  corn  for  the 
gander. 

It  was  a  pretty  sight  to  see  the  old  man  feeding 
his  pets,  and  it  made  me  feel  quite  hungry,  so  I 
trotted  home.  I  had  a  run  down  town  again  that 
evening  with  Mr.  Morris,  who  went  to  get  some- 
thing from  a  shop  for  his  wife.  He  never  let  his 
boys  go  to  town  after  tea,  so  if  there  were  errands  to 
be  done,  he  or  Mrs.  Morris  went.  The  town  was 
bright  and  lively  that  evening,  and  a  great  many 
people  were  walking  about  and  looking  into  the 
shop  windows. 

When  we  came  home,  I  went  into  the  kennel 
with  Jim,  and  there  I  slept  till  the  middle  of  the 
night.  Then  I  started  up  and  ran  outside.  There 
was  a  distant  bell  ringing,  which  we  often  heard 
in  Fairport,  and  which  always  meant  fire. 


if 


0im9-»'mvfnttvof-^i'^^lt^>K'.*M*3muvfmmt'mmvmiHimrimiw!miv'i^-- 


CHAPTKR  XXXIV 


A    FIRE    IN    FA  IK  PORT 


HAD  several  times  run  to  a  fire  with  the 
boys,  and  knew  that  there  was  always  a 
great  noise  and  excitement.  There  was 
a  light  in  the  house,  so  I  knew  that  somebody  was 
getting  up.  I  don't  think — indeed  I  know,  for 
they  were  good  boys — that  they  ever  wanted  any- 
body to  lose  property,  but  they  did  enjoy  seeing  a 
blaze,  and  one  of  their  greatest  delights,  when 
there  hadn't  been  a  fire  for  some  time,  was  to  build 
a  bonfire  in  the  garden. 

Jim  and  I  ran  around  to  the  front  of  the  house 
and  waited.  In  a  few  minutes,  some  one  came 
rattling  at  the  front  door,  and  I  was  sure  it  was 
Jack.  But  it  was  Mr.  Morris,  and  without  a  word 
to  us,  he  set  off  almost  running  toward  the  town. 
We  followed  after  him,  and  as  we  hurried  along 
other  men  ran  out  from  the  houses  along  the  streets, 
and  either  joined  him,  or  dashed  ahead.  They 
seemed  to  have  dressed  in  a  hurry,  and  were 
thrusting  their  arms  in  their  coats,  and  buttoning 
themselves  up  as  they  went.     Some  of  them  had 

hats  and  some  of  them  had  none,  and  they  all  had 
326 


i' 


A    FIRK    IN    FAIR  PORT 


327 


their  faces  toward  the  great  red  hght  that  got 
brighter  and  brighter  ahead  of  us.  "  Where's  the 
fire  ? "  they  shouted  to  each  other.  "  Don't  know 
— afraid  it's  the  hotel,  or  the  town  hall.  It's  such 
a  blaze.  Hope  not.  How's  the  water  supj)!/ 
now  ?     Bad  time  for  a  fire." 

It  was  the  hotel.  We  saw  that  as  soon  as  we 
got  on  to  the  main  street.  There  were  people  all 
about,  and  a  great  noise  and  confusion,  and 
smoke  and  blackness,  and  up  above,  bright 
tongues  of  flame  were  leaping  against  the  sky. 
Jim  and  I  kept  close  to  Mr.  Morris's  heels,  as  he 
pushed  his  way  among  the  crowd.  When  we  got 
nearer  the  burning  building,  we  saw  men  carrying 
ladders  and  axes,  and  others  were  shouting  direc- 
tions, and  rushing  out  of  the  hotel,  carrying  boxes 
and  bundles  and  furniture  in  their  arms.  From 
the  windows  above  came  a  steady  stream  of  arti- 
cles, thrown  among  the  crowd.  A  mirror  struck 
Mr.  Morris  on  the  arm,  and  a  whole  package  of 
clothes  fell  on  his  head  and  almost  smothered 
him  ;  but  he  brushed  them  aside  and  scarcely 
noticed  them.  There  was  something  the  matter 
with  Mr.  Morris — I  knew  by  the  worried  sound  of 
his  voice  when  he  spoke  to  any  one.  I  could  not 
see  his  face,  though  it  was  as  light  as  day  about 
us,  for  we  had  got  jammed  in  the  crowd,  and  if  I 
had  not  kept  between  his  feet,  I  should  have  been 
trodden  to  death.  Jim,  being  larger  than  I  was, 
had  got  separated  from  us. 

Presently  Mr.  Morris  raised  his  voice  above 
the  uproar,  and  called,  "  Is  every  one  out  of  the 


IlilWMll.i^WWIWIWIW 


328 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


hotel?"     A  voice  shouted  back,  "I'm  going  up 
to  see." 

"It's  Jim  Watson,  the  fireman,"  cried  some 
one  near.  "  He's  risking  his  life  to  go  into  that 
pit  of  flame.  Don't  go,  Watson."  I  don't  think 
that  the  brave  fireman  paid  any  attention  to  this 
•warning,  for  an  instant  later  the  same  voice  said, 
"••  He's  planting  his  ladder  against  the  third  story. 
He's  bound  to  go.  He'll  not  get  any  farther  than 
the  second,  anyway." 

"Where  are  the  Montagues?"  shouted  Mr. 
^lorris.     ' '  Has  any  one  seen  the  Montagues  ? ' ' 

"  Mr.  Morris  !  Mr.  Morris  !  "  said  a  frightened 
voice,  and  young  Charlie  Montague  pressed 
through  the  people  to  us.      ' '  Where' s  papa  ? ' ' 

"  I  don't  know.  Where  did  you  leave  him  ?  *• 
said  Mr.  Morris,  taking  his  hand  and  drawing  him 
closer  to  him.  "  I  was  sleeping  in  his  room," 
said  the  boy,  "  and  a  man  knocked  at  the  door, 
and  said,  •  Hotel  on  fire.  Five  minutes  to  dress 
and  get  out,'  and  papa  told  me  to  put  on  my 
clothes  and  go  downstairs,  and  he  ran  up  to 
mamma. ' ' 

"Where  was  she?"  asked  Mr.  Morris, 
quickly. 

On  the  fourth  flat.  She  and  her  maid  Blanche 
were  up  there.  You  know,  mamma  hasn't  been 
well  and  couldn't  sleep,  and  our  room  was  so 
noisy  that  she  moved  upstairs  where  it  was  quiet. 
Mr.  Morris  gave  a  kind  of  groan.  "Oh,  I'm  so 
hot,  and  there's  such  a  dreadful  noise,"  said  the 
little    boy,    bursting    into    tears,    "and    I   want 


I 


A    FIRE    IN    FAIRPORT 


329 


?•» 


mamma."  Mr.  Morr  s  soothed  him  as  best  he 
could,  and  drew  him  a  Httle  to  the  edge  of  the 
crowd. 

While  he  was  doing  this,  there  was  a  piercing 
cry.  I  could  not  see  the  person  making  it,  but  I 
knew  it  was  the  Italian's  voice.  He  was  scream- 
ing, in  broken  English  that  the  fire  was  spreading 
to  the  stables,  and  his  animals  would  be  burned. 
Would  no  one  help  him  to  get  his  animals  out  ? 
There  was  a  great  deal  of  confused  language. 
Some  voices  shouted,  ' '  Look  after  the  people  first. 
Let  the  animals  go."  And  others  said,  "For 
shame.  Get  the  horses  out. ' '  But  no  one  seemed 
to  do  anything,  for  the  Italian  went  on  crying  for 
help.  I  heard  a  number  of  people  who  were 
standing  near  us  say  that  it  had  just  been  found 
out  that  several  persons  who  had  been  sleeping  in 
the  top  of  the  hotel  had  not  got  out.  They  said 
that  at  one  of  the  top  windows  a  poor  housemaid 
was  shrieking  for  help.  Here  in  the  street  we 
could  see  no  one  at  the  upper  windows,  for  smoke 
was  pouring  from  them. 

The  air  was  very  hot  and  heavy,  and  I  didn't 
wonder  that  Charlie  Montague  felt  ill.  He  would 
have  fallen  on  the  ground  if  Mr.  Morris  hadn't 
taken  him  in  his  arms,  and  carried  him  out  of  the 
crowd.  He  put  him  down  on  the  brick  sidewalk, 
and  unfastened  his  little  shirt,  and  left  me  to  watch 
him,  while  he  held  his  hands  under  a  leak  in  a 
hose  that  was  fastened  to  a  hydrant  near  us.  He 
got  enough  water  to  daeh  on  Charlie's  face  and 
breast,  and  then  seeing  that  the  boy  was  reviving, 


330 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


he  sat  down  on  the  curbstone  and  took  him  on  his 
knee.  Charlie  lay  in  his  arms  and  moaned.  He 
was  a  delicate  boy,  and  he  could  not  stand  rough 
usage  as  the  Morris  boys  could. 

Mr.  Morris  was  terribly  uneasy.  His  face 
was  deathly  white,  and  he  shuddered  whenever 
there  was  a  cry  from  the  burning  building. 
"  Poor  souls — God  help  them.  Oh,  this  is  awful," 
he  said  ;  and  then  he  turned  his  eyes  from  the 
great  sheets  of  flame  and  strained  the  little  boy  to 
his  breast.  At  last  there  were  wild  shrieks  that 
I  knew  came  from  no  human  throats.  The  fire 
must  have  reached  the  horses.  Mr.  Morris  sprang 
up,  then  sank  back  again.  He  wanted  to  go,  yet 
he  could  be  of  no  use.  There  were  hundreds  of 
men  standing  about,  but  the  fire  had  spread  so 
rapidly,  and  they  had  so  little  water  to  put  on  it, 
that  there  was  very  little  they  could  do.  I  won- 
dered whether  I  could  do  anything  for  the  poor 
animals.  I  was  not  afraid  of  fire,  as  most  dogs, 
for  one  of  the  tricks  that  the  Morris  boys  had 
taught  me  was  to  put  out  a  fire  with  my  paws. 
They  would  throw  a  piece  of  lighted  paper  on  the 
floor,  and  I  would  crush  it  with  my  forepaws  ;  and 
if  the  blaze  was  too  large  for  that,  I  would  drag  a 
bit  of  old  carpet  over  it  and  jump  on  it.  I  left 
Mr.  Morris,  and  ran  around  the  corner  of  the 
•  street  to  the  back  of  the  hotel.  It  was  not  burned 
as  much  here  as  in  the  front,  and  in  the  houses 
all  around,  people  were  out  on  their  roofs  with 
wet  blankets,  and  some  were  standing  at  the  win- 
dows watching  the  fire,  or  packing  up  their  belong- 


U 


A    FIRE   IN    FAIRPORT 


331 


ings  ready  to  move  if  it  should  spread  to  them. 
There  was  a  narrow  lane  running  up  a  short  dis- 
tance toward  the  hotel,  and  I  started  to  go  up  this, 
when  in  front  of  me  I  heard  such  a  wailing,  pierc- 
ing noise,  that  it  made  me  shudder  and  stand  still. 
The  Italian's  animals  were  going  to  be  burned  up, 
and  they  were  calling  to  their  master  to  come  and 
let  them  out.  Their  voices  sounded  like  the  voices 
of  children  in  mortal  pain.  I  could  not  stand  it. 
I  was  seized  with  such  an  awful  horror  of  the  fire, 
that  I  turned  and  ran,  feeling  so  thankful  that  1 
was  not  in  it.  As  I  got  into  the  street  I  stumbled 
over  something.  It  was  a  large  bird — a  parrot, 
and  at  first  I  thought  it  was  Bella.  Then  I  re- 
membered hearing  Jack  say  that  the  Italian  had  a 
parrot.  It  was  not  dead,  but  seemed  stupid  with 
the  smoke.  I  seized  it  in  my  mouth,  and  ran  and 
laid  it  at  Mr.  Morris's  feet.  He  wrapped  it  in  his 
handkerchief,  and  laid  it  beside  him. 

I  sat,  and  trembled,  and  did  not  leave  him 
again.  I  shall  never  forget  that  dreadful  night. 
It  seemed  as  if  we  were  there  for  hours,  but  in 
reality  it  was  only  a  short  time.  The  hotel  soon 
got  to  be  all  red  flames,  and  there  was  very  little 
smoke.  The  inside  of  the  building  had  burned 
away,  and  nothing  more  could  be  gotten  out.  The 
firemen  and  all  the  people  drew  back,  and  there 
was  no  noise.  Everybody  stood  gazing  silently  at 
the  flames.  A  man  stepped  quietly  up  to  Mr. 
Morris,  and  looking  at  him,  I  saw  that  it  was  Mr. 
Montague.  He  was  usually  a  well-dressed  man, 
with  a  kind  face,  and  a  head  of  thick,  grayish- 


332 


RKAUTIFUL   JOE 


brown  hair.  Now  his  face  was  black  and  grimy, 
his  hair  was  burnt  from  the  front  of  his  head,  and 
his  clothes  were  half  torn  from  his  back.  Mr. 
Morris  sprang  up  when  he  saw  him,  and  said, 
"  Where  is  your  wife  ?  " 

The  gentleman  did  not  say  a  word,  but  pointed 
to  the  burning  building.  "  Impossible  !"  cried 
Mr.  Morris.  "  Is  there  no  mistake?  Your  beau- 
tiful young  wife,  Montague.  Can  it  be  so  ?"  Mr. 
Morris  was  trembling  from  head  to  foot. 

"It  is  true,"  said  Mr.  Montague,  quietly. 
"Give  me  the  boy."  Charhe  had  fainted  again, 
and  his  father  took  him  in  his  arms,  and  turned 
away. 

"  Montague  !  "  cried  Mr.  Morris,  "  my  heart 
is  sore  for  you.     Can  I  do  nothing  ?  " 

"No,  thank  you,"  said  the  gentleman,  without 
turning  around  ;  but  there  was  more  anguish  in 
his  voice  than  in  Mr.  Morris's,  and  though  I  am 
only  a  dog,  I  knew  that  his  heart  was  breaking. 


CHAPTER  XXXV 


BILLY   AND   THK    ITALIAN 


R.  MORRIS  stayed  no  longer.  He  fol- 
lowed Mr.  Montague  along  the  side- 
walk a  little  way,  and  then  exchanged 
a  few  hurried  words  with  some  men  who  were 
standing  near,  and  hastened  home  through  streets 
that  seemed  dark  and  dull  after  the  splendor  of 
the  fire.  Though  it  was  still  the  middle  of.  the 
night,  Mrs.  Morris  was  up  and  dressed  and  wait- 
ing for  him.  She  opened  the  hall  door  with  one 
hand  and  held  a  candle  in  the  other.  I  felt 
frightened  and  miserable,  and  didn't  want  to 
leave  Mr.  Morris,  so  I  crept  in  after  him. 

"Don't  make  a  noise,"  said  Mrs.  Morris. 
"  Laura  and  the  boys  are  sleeping,  and  I  thought 
it  better  not  to  wake  them.  It  has  been  a  terrible 
fire,  hasn't  it  ?  Was  it  the  hotel  ?  "  Mr.  Morris 
threw  himself  into  a  chair  and  covered  his  face 

with  his  hands. 

"  Speak  to  me,  William  !"  said  Mrs.  Morris,  in 
a  startled  tone.  "  You  are  not  hurt,  are  you  ?  " 
]  ~i .,,*■  Ur^^  ^'yryA^o.  r>n  tVi*»  tnhlp  and  camc  and 

sat  down  beside  him. 

333 


334 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


He  dropped  his  hands  from  his  face,  and  tears 
were  running  down  his  cheeks.  ' '  Ten  lives  lost, ' ' 
he  said  ;   "among  them  Mrs.  Montague." 

Mrs.  Morris  looked  horrified,  and  gave  a  little 
cry,  "William,  it  can't  be  so  !  " 

It  seemed  as  if  Mr.  Morris  could  not  sit  still. 
He  got  up  and  walked  to  and  fro  on  the  floor. 
' '  It  was  an  awful  scene,  Margaret.  I  never  wish 
to  look  upon  the  like  again.  Do  you  remember 
how  I  protested  against  the  building  of  that  death- 
trap. Look  at  the  wide,  open  streets  around  it, 
and  yet  they  persisted  in  running  it  up  to  the  sky. 
God  will  require  an  account  of  those  deaths  at  the 
hands  of  the  men  who  put  up  that  building.  It  is 
terrible — this  disregard  of  human  lives.  To  think 
of  that  delicate  woman  and  her  death  agony." 
He  threw  himself  in  a  chair  and  buried  his  face  in 
his  hp.nds. 

"  Where  was  she  ?  How  did  it  happen  ?  Was 
her  husband  saved,  and  Charlie  ? "  said  Mrs.  Mor- 
ris, in  a  broken  voice. 

"Yes;  Charhe  and  Mr.  Montague  are  safe. 
Charhe  will  recover  from  it.  Montague's  life  is 
done.  You  know  his  love  for  his  wife.  Oh,  Mar- 
garet !  when  will  men  cease  to  be  fools  ?  What 
does  the  Lord  think  of  them  when  they  say,  'Am 
I  my  brother' s  keeper  ? '  And  the  other  poor  crea- 
tures burned  to  death — their  lives  are  as  precious 
in  his  sight  as  Mrs.  Montague's." 

Mr.  Morris  looked  so  weak  and  ill  that  Mrs. 
Morris,  Hke  a  sensible  woman,  questioned  him  no 
further,  but  made  a  fire  and  got  him  some  hot  tea. 


; 


BILLY   AND   THE    ITALIAN 


335 


Then  she  made  him  He  down  on  the  sofa,  ahd  she 
sat  by  him  till  day-break,  when  she  persuaded  him 
to  go  to  bed.  I  followed  her  about,  and  kept 
touching  her  dress  with  my  nose.  It  seemed  so 
good  to  me  to  have  this  pleasant  home  after  all  the 
misery  I  had  seen  that  night.  Once  she  stopped 
and  took  my  head  between  her  hands,  "  Dear  old 
Joe,"  she  said,  tearfully,  "this  a  suffering  world. 
It's  well  there's  a  better  one  beyond  it." 

In  the  morning  the  boys  went  down  town  before 
breakfast  and  learned  all  about  the  fire.  It  started 
in  the  top  story  of  the  hotel,  in  the  room  of  some 
fast  young  men,  who  were  sitting  up  late  playing 
cards.  They  had  smuggled  wine  into  their  room 
and  had  been  drinking  till  they  were  stupid.  One 
of  them  upset  the  lamp,  and  when  the  flames  be- 
gan to  spread  so  that  they  could  not  extinguish 
them,  instead  of  rousing  some  one  near  them,  they 
rushed  downstairs  to  get  some  one  there  to  come 
up  and  help  them  put  out  the  fire.  When  they 
returned  with  some  of  the  hotel  people,  they  found 
that  the  flames  had  spread  from  their  room,  which 
was  in  an  "  L  "  at  the  back  of  the  house,  to  the 
front  part,  where  Mrs.  Montague's  room  was,  and 
Vvhere  the  housemaids  belonging  to  the  hotel  slept. 
By  this  time  Mr.  Montague  had  gotten  upstairs  ; 
but  he  found  the  passageway  to  his  wife's  room  so 
full  of  flames  and  smoke,  that,  though  he  tried 
again  and  again  to  force  his  way  through,  he  could 
not.  He  disappeared  for  a  time,  then  he  came  to 
Mr.  Morris  and  got  his  boy,  and  took  him  to  some 
rooms  over  his  bank,  and  shut  himself  up  with  him. 


336 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


For  some  days  he  would  let  no  one  in  ;  then  he 
came  out  with  the  look  of  an  old  man  on  his  face, 
and  his  hair  as  white  as  snow,  and  went  out  to 
his  beautiful  house  in  the  outskirts  of  the  town. 

Nearly  all  the  horses  belonging  to  the  hotel 
were  burned.  A  few  were  gotten  out  by  having 
blankets  put  over  their  heads,  but  the  most  of  them 
were  so  terrified  that  they  would  not  stir. 

The  Morris  boys  said  that  they  found  the  old 
Italian  sitting  on  an  empty  box,  looking  at  the 
smoking  ruins  of  the  hotel.  His  head  was  hang- 
ing on  his  breast,  and  his  eyes  were  full  of  tears. 
His  ponies  were  burned  up,  he  said,  and  the  gan- 
der, and  the  monkeys,  and  the  goats,  and  his 
worderful  performing  dogs.  He  had  only  his 
birds  left,  and  he  was  a  ruined  man.  He  had 
toiled  all  his  life  to  get  this  troupe  of  trained  ani- 
mals together,  and  now  they  were  swept  from  him. 
It  was  cruel  and  wicked,  and  he  wished  he  could 
die.  The  canaries,  and  pigeons,,  and  doves,  the 
hotel  people  had  allowed  him  to  take  to  his  room, 
and  they  were  safe.  The  parrot  was  lost — an 
educated  parrot  that  could  answer  forty  questions, 
and,  among  other  things,  could  take  a  watch  and 
tell  the  time  of  day. 

Jack  Morris  told  him  that  they  had  it  safe  at 
home,  and  that  it  was  very  much  alive,  quarreling 
furiously  with  his  parrot  Bella.  The  old  man's  face 
brightened  at  this,  and  then  Jack  and  Carl,  finding 
that  he  had  had  no  breakfast,  went  off  to  a  res- 
taurant near  by,  and  got  him  some  steak  and 
coffee.     The  Italian  was  very  grateful,  and  as  he 


I 


BILLY    AND    THE    ITALIAN 


337 


ate,  Jack  said  the  tears  ran  into  his  coffee  cup. 
He  told  them  how  much  he  loved  his  animals,  and 
how  it  ' '  made  ze  heart  bitter  to  hear  zem  crying 
to  him  to  deliver  zem  from  ze  raging  fire. 

The  boys  came  home,  and  got  their  breakfast 
and  went  to  school.  Miss  Laura  did  not  go  out. 
She  sat  all  day  with  a  very  quiet,  pained  face. 
She  could  neither  read  nor  sew,  and  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Morris  were  just  as  unsettled.  They  talked  about 
the  fire  in  low  tones,  and  I  could  see  that  they  felt 
more  sad  about  Mrs.  Montague's  death  than  if 
she  had  died  in  an  ordinary  way.  Her  dear  little 
canary,  Barry,  died  with  her.  She  would  never 
be  separated  from  him,  and  his  cage  had  been 
taken  up  to  the  top  of  the  hotel  with  her.  He 
probably  died  an  easier  death  than  his  poor  mis- 
tress. Charley' s  dog  escaped,  but  was  so  frightened 
that  he  ran  out  to  their  house,  outside  the  town. 

At  tea  time,  Mr.  Morris  went  down  town  to  see 
that  the  Italian  got  a  comfortable  place  for  the 
night.  When  he  came  back,  he  said  that  he  had 
found  out  that  the  Italian  was  by  no  means  so  old 
a  man  as  he  looked,  and  that  he  had  talked  to  him 
about  raising  a  sum  of  money  for  him  among  the 
Fairport  people,  till  he  had  become  quite  cheerful, 
and  said  that  if  Mr.  Morris  would  do  that,  he 
would  try  to  gather  another  troupe  of  animals 
together  and  train  them. 

"Now,  what  can  we  do  for  this  Italian?** 
asked  Mrs.  Morris.  "We  can't  give  him  much 
money,  but  we  might  let  him  have  one  or  two  of 
our  pets.     There's  Billy,  he's  a  bright,  little  dog, 


aa 


338 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


and  not  two  years  old  yet.  He  could  teach  him 
anything. ' ' 

There  was  a  blank  silence  among  the  Morris 
children.  Billy  was  such  a  gentle,  lovable,  little 
dog,  that  he  was  a  favorite  with  every  one  in  the 
house.  * '  I  suppose  we  ought  to  do  it, ' '  said  Miss 
Laura,  at  last ;    ' '  but  how  can  we  give  him  up  ?  " 

There  was  a  good  deal  of  discussion,  but  the 
end  of  it  was  that  Billy  was  given  to  the  Italian. 
He  came  up  to  get  him,  and  was  very  grateful, 
and  made  a  great  many  bows,  holding  his  hat  in 
^his  hand.  Billy  took  to  him  at  once,  and  the 
Italian  spoke  so  kindly  to  him,  that  we  knew  he 
would  have  a  good  master.  Mr.  Morris  got  quite 
a  large  sum  of  money  for  him,  and  when  he 
handed  it  to  him,  the  poor  man  was  so  pleased 
that  he  kissed  his  hand,  and  promised  to  send 
frequent  word  as  to  Billy's  progress  and  welfare. 


1^ 


f 


^ 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 


DANDY    THE   TRAMP 


BOUT  a  week  after  Billy  left  us,  the 
Morris  family,  much  to  its  surprise,  be- 
came the  owner  of  a  new  dog. 
He  walked  into  the  house  one  cold,  wintry 
afternoon  and  lay  calmly  down  by  the  fire.  He 
was  a  brindled  bull-terrier,  and  he  had  on  a  silver- 
plated  collar  with  "  Dandy  "  engraved  on  it.  He 
lay  all  the  evening  by  the  fire,  and  when  any  of  the 
family  spoke  to  him,  he  wagged  his  tail,  and  looked 
pleased.  I  growled  a  little  at  him  at  first,  but  he 
never  cared  a  bit,  and  just  dozed  off  to  sleep,  so  I 
soon  stopped. 

He  was  such  a  well-bred  dog,  that  the  Morrises 
were  afraid  that  some  one  had  lost  him.  They 
ma.de  some  inquiries  the  next  day,  and  found  that 
he  belonged  to  a  New  York  gentleman  who  had 
come  to  Fairport  in  the  summer  in  a  yacht.  This  dog 
did  not  like  the  yacht.  He  came  ashore  in  a  boat 
whenever  he  got  a  chance,  and  if  he  could  not 
come  in  a  boat,  he  would  swim.  He  was  a  tramp, 
his  master  said,  and  he  wouldn't  stay  long  in  any 
place.   The  Morrises  were  so  amused  with  his  impu- 

339 


340 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


dence,  that  they  did  not  send  him  away,  but  said 
everyday,  "  Surely  he  will  be  gone  to-morrow." 
However,   Mr.    Dandy  had  gotten  into   com- 
fortable   quarters,   and   he   had   no  intention    of 
changing  them,   for  a  while  at  least.     Then  he 
was  very  handsome,  and  had  such  a  pleasant  way 
with  him,  that  the  family  could  not  help  liking 
him.     I  never  cared  for  him.     He  fawned  on  the 
Morrises,  and  pretended  he  loved  them,  and  after- 
ward  turned  around  and  laughed    and    sneered 
at  them  in  a  way  that  made  me  very  angry.     I 
?i.sed  to  lecture  him  sometimes,  and  growl  about 
him  to  Jim,  but  Jim  always  said,  "  Let  him  alone. 
You  can't  do  him  any  good.     He  was  born  bad. 
His  mother  wasn't  good.     He  tells  me  that  she 
had  a  bad  name  among  all  the  dogs  in  her  neigh- 
borhood.      She   was   a   thief   and   a   runaway." 
Though  he  provoked  me  so  often,  yet  I  could  not 
help  laughing  at  some  of  his  stories,  they  were  so 

funny. 

We  were  lying  out  in  the  sun,  on  the  platform 
at  the  back  of  the  house,  one  day,  and  he  had  been 
more  than  usually  provoking,  so  I  got  up  to  leave 
him.  He  put  himself  in  my  way,  however,  and 
said,  coaxingly,  "  Don't  be  cross,  old  fellow.  I'll 
tell  you  some  stories  to  amuse  you,  old  boy.  What 
shall  they  be  about  ? ' ' 

' '  I  think  the  story  of  your  life  would  be  about 
as  interesting  as  anything  you  could  make  up,"   I 

said,  drvlv. 

"  All  right,  fact  or  fiction,  whichever  you  like. 
Here's  a  fact,  plain  and  unvarnished.     Born  and 


DANDY   THE   TRAMP 


341 


It  said 

TOW." 

com- 
on  of 
len  he 
nt  way 

liking 
on  the 
1  after- 
neered 


rry. 


I 


about 
alone, 
n  bad. 
lat  she 
neigh- 
iway." 
aid  not 
were  so 

latform 
id  been 
;o  leave 
er,  and 
w.  I'll 
What 

e  about 

»  '       T 

up,      I 

ou  like, 
orn  and 


bred  in  New  York.  Swell  stable.  Swell  coach- 
man. Swell  master.  Jewelled  fingers  of  ladies 
poking  at  me,  first  thing  I  remember.  First  pain- 
ful experience — being  sent  to  vet.  to  have  ears 
cut." 

"What's  a  vet.  ?"   I  said. 

"A  veterinary — animal  doctor.  Vet.  didn't 
cut  ears  enough.  Master  sent  me  back.  Cut  ears 
again.  Summer  time,  and  flies  bad.  Ears  got 
sore  and  festered,  flies  very  attentive.  Coachman 
set  little  boy  to  brush  flies  off,  but  he'd  run  out  in 
yard  and  leave  me.  Flies  awful.  Thought  they'd 
eat  me  up,  or  else  I'd  shake  out  brains  trying  to 
get  rid  of  them.  Mother  should  have  stayed  home 
and  licked  my  ears,  but  was  cruising  about  neigh- 
borhood. Finally  coachman  put  me  in  dark  place, 
powdered  ears,  and  they  got  well." 

"Why  didn't  they  cut  your  tail,  too  ?  "  I  said, 
looking  at  his  long,  slim  tail,  which  was  like  a 
sewer  rat's. 

" 'Twasn't  the  fashion,  Mr.  Wayback  ;  a  bull- 
terrier'  s  ears  are  clipped  to  keep  them  from  getting 
torn  while  fighting." 

"You're  not  a  fighting  dog,"  I  said. 

"Not  I.  Too  much  trouble.  I  believe  in 
taking  things  easy. ' ' 

"I  should  think  you  did,"  I  said,  scornfully. 
"You  never  put  yourself  out  for  any  one,  I  notice  ; 
but,  speaking  of  cropping  ears,  what  do  you  think 
of  it?" 

"Well,"  he  said,  with  a  sly  glance  at  my  head, 
"it  isn't  a  pleasant  operation  ;  but  one  might  as 


342 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


well  be  out  of  the  world  as  out  of  the  fashion.     I 
don't  care,  now  my  ears  are  done." 

"But,"  I  said,  "think  of  the  poor  dogs  that 
will  come  after  you." 

"  What  difference  does  that  make  to  me  ?  "  he 
said.  "I'll  be  dead  and  out  of  the  way.  Men 
can  cut  off  their  ears,  and  tails,  and  legs,  too,  if 
they  want  to." 

"Dandy,"  I  said,  angrily,  "you're  the  most 
selfish  dog  that  I  ever  saw. 

' '  Don' t  excite  yourself, ' '  he  said,  coolly.    '  'Let 
^me  get  on  with  my  story.     When  I  was  a  few 
months  old,  I  began  to  find  the  stable  yard  narrow, 
and  wondered  what  there  was  outside  of  it.     I 
discovered  a  hole  in  the  garden  wall,  and  used  to 
sneak  out  nights.     Oh,  what  fun  it  was.     I  got  to 
know  a  lot  of  street  dogs,  and  we  had  gay  times, 
barking  under  people's  windows  and  making  them 
mad,  and  getting  into  back  yards  and  chasing  cats. 
We  used  to  kill  a  cat  nearly  every  night.     Police- 
man would  chase  us,  and  we  would  run  and  run 
till  the  water  just  ran   off  our  tongues,  a  .d  we 
hadn't  a  bit  of  breath  left.     Then  I'd  go  home  and 
sleep  all  day,  and  go  out  again  the  next  night. 
When  I  was  about  a  year  old,  I  began  to  stay  out 
days  as  well  as  nights.     They  couldn't  keep  me 
home.     Then  I  ran  away  for  three  months.     I  got 
with  an  old  lady  on  Fifth  Avenue,  who  was  very 
fond  of  dogs.     She  had  four  white  poodles,  and 
her  servants  used  to  wash  them,  and  tie  up  their 
hair  with  blue  ribbons,  and  she  used  to  take  them 
for  drives  in  her  phaeton  in  the  park,  and  they 


DANDY   THE   TRAMP 


343 


most 


wore  gold  and  silver  collars.  The  biggest  poodle 
wore  a  ruby  in  his  collar  worth  five  hundred 
dollars.  I  went  driving,  too,  and  sometimes  we 
met  my  master.  He  often  smiled,  and  shook  his 
head  at  me.  I  heard  him  tell  the  coachman  one 
day  that  I  was  a  little  blackguard,  and  he  was  to 
let  me  come  and  go  as  I  liked." 

"If  they  had  whipped  you  soundly,"  I  said, 
"it  might  have  made  a  good  dog  of  you." 

"I'm  good  enough  now,"  said  Dandy,  airily. 
' '  The  young  ladies  who  drove  with  my  master 
used  to  say  that  it  was  priggish  and  tiresome  to  be 
too  good.  To  go  on  with  my  story  :  I  stayed  with 
Mrs.  Judge  Tibbett  till  I  got  sick  of  her  fussy 
ways.  She  made  a  simpleton  of  herself  over  those 
poodles.  Each  one  had  a  high  chair  at  the  table, 
and  a  plate,  and  they  always  sat  in  these  chairs 
and  had  meals  with  her,  and  the  servants  all  called 
them  Master  Bijou,  and  Master  Tot,  and  Miss 
Tiny,  and  Miss  Fluff.  One  day  they  tried  to  make 
me  sit  in  a  chair,  and  I  got  cross  and  bit  Mrs. 
Tibbett,  and  she  beat  me  cruelly,  and  her  servants 
stoned  me  away  from  the  house. 

"Speaking  about  fools.  Dandy,"  I  said,  "if 
it  is  polite  to  call  a  lady  one,  I  should  say  that 
that  lady  was  one.  Dogs  shouldn't  be  put  out  of 
their  place.  Why  didn't  she  have  some  poor 
children  at  her  table,  and  in  her  carriage,  and  let 
the  dogs  run  behind  ? ' ' 

"Easy  to  see  you  don't  know  New  York," 
said  Dandy,  with  a  laugh.  "  Poor  children  don't 
live  with  rich,  old  ladies.      Mrs.   Tibbett  hated 


344 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


children,  anyway.    Then  dogs  Hke  poodles  would 
get  lost  in  the  mud,  or  killed  in  the  crowd  if  they 
ran  behind  a  carriage.      Only  knowing  dogs  like 
me  can  make  their  way  about."     I  rather  doubted 
this  speech  ;  but  I  said  nothing,  and  he  went  on, 
patronizingly  :    "  However,  Joe,  thou  hast  reason, 
as  the   French   say.     Mrs.  Judge  Tibbett  didtCt 
give  her  dogs  exercise  enough.     Their  claws  were 
as  long  as  Chinamen's  nails,  and  the  hair  grew 
over  their  pads,  and  they  had  red  eyes  and  were 
always  sick,  and  she  had  to  dose  them  with  medi- 
«cine,  and  call  them  her  poor,  little,  '  weeny-teeny, 
sicky-wicky  doggies. '     Bah  !     I  got  disgusted  with 
her.     When  I  left  her,  I  ran  away  to  her  niece's, 
Miss  Ball's.     She  was  a  sensible  young  lady,  and 
she  used  to  scold  her  aunt  for  the  way  in  which 
she  brought  up  her  dogs.     She  was  almost  too  sen- 
sible, for  her  pug  and  I  were  rubbed  and  scrubbed 
within  an  inch  of  our  lives,  and  had  to  go  for  such 
long  walks  that  I  got  thoroughly  sick  of  them.    A 
woman,  whom  the  servants  called  Trotsey,  came 
every  morning,  and  took  the  pug  and  me  by  our 
chains,  and  sometimes  another  dog  or  two,  and 
took  us  for  long  tramps  in  quiet  streets.     That  was 
Trotsey' s  business,  to  walk  dogs,  and  Miss  Ball 
got  a   great  many  fashionable  young  ladies  who 
could  not  exercise  their  dogs,  to  let  Trotsey  have 
them,  and  they  said  that  it  made  a  great  difference 
in   the   health    and   appearance    of     their    pets. 
Trotsev  eot  fifteen  cents  an  hour  for  a  dog.     Good- 
ness,    what  appetites  those  walks  gave  us,    and 
didn't  we  make  the  dog  biscuits  disappear?     But 


y 


DANDY   THE   TRAMP 


345 


I 


it  was  a  slow  life  at  Miss  Ball's.  We  only  saw  her 
for  a  little  while  every  clay.  She  slept  till  noon. 
After  lunch  she  played  with  us  for  a  little  while  in 
the  greenhouse,  then  she  was  off  driving  or  visit- 
ing, and  in  the  evening  she  always  had  company, 
or  went  to  a  dance,  or  to  the  theatre.  I  soon 
made  up  my  mind  that  I'd  run  away.  I  jumped 
out  of  a  window  one  fine  morning,  and  ran  home. 
I  stayed  there  for  a  long  time.  My  mother  had 
been  run  over  by  a  cart  and  killed,  and  I  wasn't 
sorry.  My  master  never  bothered  his  head  about 
me,  and  I  could  do  as  I  liked.  One  day  when  I 
was  having  a  walk,  and  meeting  a  lot  of  dogs  that 
I  knew,  a  little  boy  came  behind  me,  and  before 
I  could  tell  what  he  was  doing,  he  had  snatched 
me  up,  and  was  running  off  with  me.  I  couldn't 
bite  him,  for  he  had  stuffed  Lome  of  his  rags  in 
my  mouth.  He  took  me  to  a  tenement  house,  in 
a  part  of  the  city  that  I  had  never  been  in  before. 
He  belonged  to  a  very  poor  family.  My  Taith, 
weren't  they  badly  off — six  children,  and  a  mother 
and  father,  all  living  in  two  tiny  rooms.  Scarcely 
a  bit  of  meat  did  I  smell  while  I  was  there.  I 
hated  their  bread  and  molasses,  and  the  place 
smelled  so  badly  that  I  thought  I  should  choke. 

"They  kept  me  shut  up  in  their  dirty  rooms  for 
several  days  ;  and  the  brat  of  a  boy  that  caught 
me  slept  with  his  arm  around  me  at  night.  The 
weather  was  hot  and  sometimes  we  couldn't  sleep, 
and  they  had  to  go  up  on  the  roof.  After  a  while, 
they  chained  me  up  in  a  filthy  yard  at  the  back  of 
the  house,  and  there  I  thought  I  should  go  mad. 


•  346 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


I  would  have  liked  to  bite  them  all  to  death,  if  I 
had  dared.  It's  awful  to  be  chained,  especially 
for  a  dog  like  me  that  loves  his  freedom.  The 
flies  worried  me,  and  the  noises  distracted  me,  and 
my  flesh  would  fairly  creep  from  getting  no  exer- 
cise. I  was  there  nearly  a  month,  while  they  were 
waiting  for  a  reward  to  be  offered.  But  none 
came  ;  and  one  day,  the  boy's  father,  who  was  a 
street  peddler,  took  me  by  my  chain  and  led  me 
about  the  streets  till  he  sold  me.  A  gentleman 
got  me  for  his  Httle  boy,  but  I  didn't  like  the  look 
^f  him,  so  I  sprang  up  and  bit  his  hand,  and  he 
dropped  the  chain,  and  I  dodged  boys  and  police- 
men, and  finally  got  home  more  dead  than  alive, 
and  looking  like  a  skeleton.  I  had  a  good  time 
for  several  weeks,  and  then  I  began  to  get  restless 
and  was  off  again.  But  I'm  getting  tired  ;  I  want 
to  go  to  sleep. 

•  'You'  re  not  very  polite, ' '  I  said,  ' '  to  offer  to  tell 
a  story,  and  then  go  to  sleep  before  you  finish  it. ' ' 

' '  Look  out  for  number  one,  my  boy, '  *  said 
Dandy,  with  a  yawn  ;"for  if  you  don't,  no  one  else 
will,"  and  he  shut  his  eyes  and  was  fast  asleep  in 
a  few  minutes. 

I  sat  and  looked  at  him.  What  a  handsome, 
good-natured,  worthless  dog  he  was.  A  few  days 
later,  he  told  me  the  rest  of  his  history.  After  a 
great  many  wanderings,  he  happened  home  one 
day  just  as  his  master's  yacht  was  going  to  sail, 
and  they  chained  him  up  till  they  went  on  board, 
so  that  he  could  be  an  amusement  on  the  passage 
toFairport. 


(• 


DANDY   THE   TRAMP 


347 


; 


It  was  in  November  that  Dandy  came  to  us, 
and  he  stayed  all  winter.  He  made  fun  of  the 
Morrises  all  the  time,  and  said  they  had  a  dull, 
poky,  old  house,  and  he  only  stayed  because  Miss 
Laura  was  nursing  him.  He  had  a  little  sore  on 
his  back  that  she  soon  found  out  was  mange.  Her 
father  said  it  was  a  bad  disease  for  dogs  to  have, 
and  Dandy  had  better  be  shot  ;  but  she  begged  so 
hard  for  his  life,  and  said  she  would  cure  him  in  a 
few  weeks,  that  she  was  allowed  to  keep  him. 
Dandy  wasn't  capable  of  getting  really  angry,  but 
he  was  as  disturbed  about  having  this  disease  as  he 
could  be  about  anything.  He  said  that  he  had  got 
it  from  a  little,  mangy  dog,  that  he  had  played 
with  a  few  weeks  before.  He  was  only  with  the 
dog  a  little  while,  and  didn't  think  he  would  take 
it,  but  it  seemed  he  knew  what  an  easy  thing  it 
was  to  get. 

Until  he  got  well  he  was  separated  from  us. 
Miss  Laura  kept  him  up  in  the  loft  with  the  rabbits, 
where  we  could  not  go  ;  and  the  boys  ran  him 
around  the  garden  for  exercise.  She  tried  all 
kind  of  cures  for  him,  and  I  heard  her  say  that 
though  it  was  a  skin  disease,  his  blood  must  be 
purified.  She  gave  him  some  of  the  pills  that  she 
made  out  of  sulphur  and  butter  for  Jim,  and  Billy, 
and  me,  to  keep  our  coats  silky  and  smooth. 
When  they  didn't  cure  him,  she  gave  him  a  few 
drops  of  arsenic  every  day,  and  washed  the  sore, 
and,  indeed  his  whole  body,  with  tobacco  water 
or  carbolic  soap.  It  was  the  tobacco  water  that 
cured   him. 


348 


liEAUTIFUL   JOE 


Miss  Laura  always  put  on  gloves  when  she 
went  near  him,  and  used  a  brush  to  wash  him,  for 
if  a  person  takes  mange  from  a  dog,  they  may  lose 
their  hair  and  their  eyelashes.  But  if  they  are 
careful,  no  harm  comes  from  nur^'ng  a  mangy  dog, 
and  I  have  never  known  of  any  one  taking  the 
disease. 

After  a  time.  Dandy's  sore  healed,  and  he  was 
set  free.  He  was  right  glad,  he  said,  for  he  had 
got  heartily  sick  of  the  rabbits.  He  used  to  bark 
at  them  and  make  them  angry,  and  they  would 
run  around  the  loft,  stamping  their  hind  feet  at 
him,  in  the  funny  way  that  rabbits  do.  I  think 
they  disliked  him  as  much  as  he  disliked  them. 
Jim  and  I  did  not  get  the  mange.  Dandy  was  not 
a  strong  dog,  and  I  think  his  irregular  way  of  liv- 
ing made  him  take  diseases  readily.  He  would 
stuff  himself  when  he  was  hungry,  and  he  always 
wanted  rich  food.  If  he  couldn't  get  what  he 
wanted  at  the  Morrises',  he  went  out  and  stole,  or 
visited  the  dumps  at  the  back  of  the  town. 

When  he  did  get  ill,  he  was  more  stupid  about 
doctoring  himself  than  any  dog  that  I  have  ever 
seen.  He  never  seemed  to  know  when  to  eat  grass 
or  herbs,  or  a  little  earth,  that  would  have  kept  him 
in  good  condition.  A  dog  should  never  be  without 
grass.  When  Dandy  got  ill  he  just  suffered  till  he 
got  well  again,  and  never  tried  to  cure  himself  of 
his  small  troubles.  Some  dogs  even  know  enough 
to  amputate  their  limbs.  Jim  told  me  a  very  in- 
teresting story  of  a  dog  the  Morrises  once  had, 
called  Gyp,  whose  leg  became  paralyzed  by  a  kick 


DANDY   THE   TRAMP 


349 


I 


from  a  horse.  He  knew  the  leg  was  dead,  and 
gnawed  it  ofif  nearly  to  the  shoulder,  and  though 
he  was  very  sick  for  a  time,  yet  in  the  end  he  got 
well. 

To  return  to  Dandy.  I  knew  he  was  only  wait- 
ing for  the  spring  to  leave  us,  and  I  was  not  sorry. 
The  first  fine  day  he  was  off,  and  during  the  rest 
of  the  spring  and  summer  we  occasionally  met 
him  running  about  the  town  with  a  set  of  fast  dogs. 
One  day  I  stopped  and  asked  him  how  he  con- 
tented himself  in  such  a  quiet  place  as  Fairport, 
and  he  said  he  was  dying  to  get  back  to  New  York, 
and  was  hoping  that  his  master' s  yacht  would  come 
and  take  him  away. 

Poor  Dandy  never  left  Fairport.  After  all,  he 
was  not  such  a  bad  dog.  There  was  nothing 
really  vicious  about  him,  and  I  hate  to  speak  of 
his  end.  His  master's  yacht  did  not  come,  and 
soon  the  summer  was  over,  and  the  winter  was 
coming,  and  no  one  wanted  Dandy,  for  he  had 
such  a  bad  name.  He  got  hungry  and  cold,  and 
one  day  sprang  upon  a  little  girl,  to  take  away  a 
piece  of  bread  and  butter  that  she  was  eating. 
He  did  not  see  the  large  house-dog  on  the  door  sill, 
and  before  he  could  get  away,  the  dog  had  seized 
him,  and  bitten  and  shaken  him  till  he  was  nearly 
dead.  When  the  dog  threw  him  aside,  he  crawled 
to  the  Morrises,  and  Miss  Laura  bandaged  his 
wounds,  and  made  him  a  bed  in  the  stable. 

One  Sunday  morning  she  washed  and  fed  him 
very  tenderly,  for  she  knew  he  could  not  live  much 
longer.     He  was  so  weak  that  he  could  scarcely 


350 


BEAUTIFUL   JOE 


eat  the  food  that  she  put  in  his  mouth,  so  she  let 
him  lick  some  milk  from  her  finger.  As  she  was 
going  to  church,  I  could  not  go  with  her,  but  I  ran 
down  the  lane  and  watched  her  out  of  sight.  When 
I  came  back.  Dandy  was  gone.  I  looked  till  I  found 
him.  He  had  crawled  into  the  darkest  corner  of 
the  stable  to  die,  and  though  he  was  suffering  very 
much,  he  never  uttered  a  sound.  I  sat  by  him 
and  thought  of  his  master  in  New  York.  If  he 
had  brought  Dandy  up  properly  he  might  not  now 
be  here  in  his  silent  death  agony.  A  young  pup 
should  be  trained  just  as  a  child  is,  and  punished 
?when  he  goes  wrong.  Dandy  began  badly,  and 
not  being  checked  in  his  evil  ways,  had  come  to 
this.  Poor  Dandy  !  Poor,  handsome  dog  of  a  rich 
master!  He  opened  his  dull  eyes,  gave  me  one 
last  glance,  then,  with  a  convulsive  shudder,  his 
torn  limbs  were  still.  He  would  never  suffer  any 
more. 

When  Miss  Laura  came  home,  she  cried  bit- 
terly to  know  that  he  was  dead.  The  boys  took 
him  away  from  her,  and  made  him  a  grave  in  the 
corner  of  the  garden. 


^\ 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 


THE    END    OF    MY    STORY 


<l 


HAVE  come  now  to  the  last  chapter  of 
my  story.  I  thought  when  I  began  to 
write,  that  I  would  put  down  the  events 
of  each  year  of  my  life,  but  I  fear  that  would  make 
my  story  too  long,  and  neither  Miss  Laura  nor 
any  boys  and  girls  would  care  to  read  it.  So  I 
will  Etop  just  here,  though  I  would  gladly  go  on, 
for  I  have  enjoyed  so  much  talking  over  old  times, 
that  I  am  very  sorry  to  leave  off. 

Every  year  that  I  have  been  at  the  Morrises' , 
something  pleasant  has  happened  to  me,  but  I 
cannot  put  all  these  things  down,  nor  can  I  tell 
how  Miss  Laura  and  the  boys  grew  and  changed, 
year  by  year,  till  now  they  are  quite  grown  up.  I 
will  just  bring  my  tale  down  to  the  present  time, 
and  then  I  will  stop  talking,  and  go  lie  down  in 
my  basket,  for  I  am  an  old  dog  now,  and  get  tired 
very  easily. 

I  was  a  year  old  when  I  went  to  the  Morrises, 

and  I  have  been  with  them  for  twelve  years.     I  am 

not  living  in  the  same  house  with  Mr.  and  Mrs. 

Morris  now,  but  I  am  with  my  dear  Miss  Laura, 

351 


352 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


who  is  Miss  Laura  no  longer,  but  Mrs.  Gray.    She 
married  Mr.  Harry  four  years  ago,  and  lives  with 
him  and  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Wood,  on  Dingley  Farm. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Morris  live  in  a  cottage  near  by. 
Mr.  Morris  is  not  very  strong,  and  can  preach  no 
longer.    The  boys  are  all  scattered.    Jack  married 
pretty  Miss  Bessie  Drury,  and  lives  on  a  large  farm 
near  here.     Miss  Bessie  says  that  she  hates  to  be  a 
farmer's  wife,  but  she  always  looks  very  happy 
and  contented,  so  I  think  that  she  must  be  mis- 
taken.    Cari  is  a  merchant  in  New  York,  Ned  is  a 
clerk  in  a  bank,  and  Willie  is  studying  at  a  place 
^called  Harvard.     He  says  that  after  he  finishes  his 
studies,  he  is  going  to  live  with  his  father  and 
mother. 

The  Morrises'  old  friends  often  come  to  see 
them.     Mrs.  Drury  comes  every  summer  on  her 
way  to  Newport,  and  Mr.  Montague  and  Chariie 
come  every  other  summer.     Chariie  always  brings 
with  him  his  old  dog  Brisk,  who  is  getting  feeble, 
like  myself     We  lie  on  the  veranda  in  the  sun- 
shine, and  listen  to  the  Morrises  talking  about  old 
days,  and  sometimes  it  makes  us  feel  quite  young 
again.     In  addition  to  Brisk  we  have  a  Scotch 
collie.     He  is  very  handsome,  and  is  a  constant 
attendant  of  Miss  Laura's.     We  are  great  friends, 
he  and  I,  but  he  can  get  about  much  better  than  I 
can.    One  day  a  friend  of  Miss  Laura's  came  with  a 
little  boy  and  giri,  and  "  Collie  "  sat  bet^veen  the 
two  children,  and  their  father  took  their  picture  with 
a  '  ■■  kodak. ' '     I  like  him  so  much  that  I  told  him  I 
would  get  them  to  put  his  picture  in  my  book. 


THE    END    OF   MY    STORY 


353 


When  the  Morris  boys  are  all  here  in  the  sum- 
mer we  have  gay  times.  All  through  the  winter 
we  look  forward  to  their  coming,  for  they  make 
the  old  farmhouse  so  lively.  Mr.  Maxwell  never 
misses  a  summer  in  coming  to  Riverdale.  He 
has  such  a  following  of  dumb  animals  now,  that 
he  says  he  can't  move  them  any  farther  away  from 
Boston  than  this,  and  he  doesn't  know  what  he 
will  do  with  them,  unless  he  sets  up  a  menagerie. 
He  asked  Miss  Laura  the  other  day,  if  she  thought 
that  the  old  Italian  would  take  him  into  partner- 
ship. He  did  not  know  what  had  happened  to 
poor  Bellini,  so  Miss  Laura  told  him. 

A  few  years  ago  the  Italian  came  to  Riverdale, 

to  exhibit  his  new  stock  of  performing  animals. 

They  were  almost  as  good  as  the  old  ones,  but  he 

had  not  quite  so  many  as  he  had  before.     The 

Morrises  and  a  great  many  of  their  friends  went  to 

his  performance,  and  Miss  Laura  said  afterward, 

that  when  cunning  little  Billy  came  on  the  stage, 

and  made  his  bow,  and  went  through  his  antics 

of  jumping  through  hoops,    and  catching   balls, 

that  she  almost  had  hysterics.     The  Italian  had 

made  a  special  pet  of  him  for  the  Morrises'  sake, 

and  treated  him  more  like  a  human  being  than  a 

dog.     Billy  rather  put  on  airs  when  he  came  up  to 

the  farm  to  see  us,  but  he  was  such  a  dear,  little 

dog,  in  spite  of  being  almost  spoiled  by  his  master, 

that  Jim  and  I  could  not  get  angry  with  him.     In 

a  few  days  they  went  away,  and  we  heard  nothing 

but  good  news  from  them,  till  last  winter.     Then 

a  letter  came  to  Miss  Laura  from  a  nurse  in  a 
23 


354 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


New  York  hospital.  She  said  that  the  Itahan  was 
very  near  his  end,  and  he  wanted  her  to  write  to 
Mrs.  Gray  to  tell  her  that  he  had  sold  all  his  ani- 
mals but  the  little  dog  that  she  had  so  kindly 
given  him.  He  was  sending  him  back  to  her,  and 
with  his  latest  breath  he  would  pray  for  heaven's 
blessing  on  the  kind  lady  and  her  family  that  had 
befriended  him  when  he  was  in  trouble. 

The  next  day  Billy  arrived,  a  thin,  white  scare- 
crow of  a  dog.  He  was  sick  and  unhappy,  and 
would  eat  nothing,  and  started  up  at  the  slightest 
sound.  He  was  U:.tening  for  the  Italian's  foot- 
steps, but  he  never  came,  and  one  day  Mr.  Harry 
looked  up  from  his  newspaper  and  said,  "  Laura, 
Bellini  is  dead."  Miss  Laura's  eyes  filled  with 
tears,  and  Billy,  who  had  jumped  up  when  he 
heard  his  master's  name,  fell  back  again.  He 
knew  what  they  meant,  and  from  that  instant  he 
ceased  listening  for  footsteps,  and  lay  quite  still 
till  he  died.  Miss  Laura  had  him  put  in  a  little 
wooden  box,  and  buried  him  in  a  corner  of  the 
garden,  and  when  she  is  working  among  her 
flowers,  she  often  speaks  regretfully  of  him,  and 
of  poor  Dandy,  who  lies  in  the  garden  at  Fairport. 

Bella,  the  parrot,  lives  with  Mrs.  Morris,  and 
is  as  smart  as  ever.  I  have  heard  that  parrots 
live  to  a  very  great  age.  Some  of  them  even  get 
to  be  a  hundred  years  old.  If  that  is  the  case, 
Bella  will  outlive  all  of  us.  She  notices  that  I  am 
getting  bHnd  and  feeble,  and  when  I  go  down  to 
can  uii  iviib.  iviunib,  bne  ca,ii3  out  lo  me,  "  is.eep  a 
stiff  upper  lip,    Beautiful   Joe.     Never   say   die, 


THE    END    OF    MY    STORY 


355 


Lian  was 
write  to 
bis  ani- 
kindly 
ler,  and 
eaven's 
hat  had 

s  scare- 
py,  and 
lightest 
's  foot- 
.  Harry 

Laura, 
id  with 
hen  he 
n.  He 
tant  he 
ite  still 
a  little 

of  the 
ng  her 
m,  and 
airport, 
is,  and 
parrots 
i^en  get 
B  case. 
It  I  am 
own  to 
Keep  a 
,y   die, 


Beautiful  Joe.     Keep  the  game  a-going,  Beautiful 
Joe." 

Mrs.  Morris  says  that  she  doesn't  know  where 
Bella  picks  up  her  slang  words.  I  think  it  is  Mr. 
Ned  who  teaches  her,  for  when  he  comes  home  in 
the  summer  he  often  says,  with  a  sly  twinkle  in  his 
eye,  "Come  out  into  the  garden,  Bella,"  and  he 
lies  in  a  hammock  under  the  trees,  and  Bella 
perches  on  a  branch  near  him,  and  he  talks  to  her 
by  the  hour.  Anyway,  it  is  in  the  autumn  after 
he  leaves  Riverdale  that  Bella  always  shocks  Mrs. 
Morris  with  her  slang  talk. 

I  am  glad  that  I  am  to  end  my  days  in  River- 
dale.  Fairport  was  a  very  nice  place,  but  it  was 
not  open  and  free  like  this  farm.  I  take  a  walk 
every  morning  that  the  sun  shines.  I  go  out 
among  the  horses  and  cows,  and  stop  to  watch  the 
hens  pecking  at  their  food.  This  is  a  happy 
place,  and  I  hope  my  dear  Miss  Laura  will  live  to 
enjoy  it  many  years  after  I  am  gone. 

I  have  very  few  worries.  The  pigs  bother  me 
a  little  in  the  spring,  by  rooting  up  the  bones  that 
I  bury  in  the  fields  in  the  fall,  but  that  is  a  small 
matter,  and  I  try  not  to  mind  it.  I  get  a  great 
many  bones  here,  and  I  should  be  glad  if  I  had 
some  poor,  city  dogs  to  help  me  eat  them.  I  don't 
think  bones  are  good  for  pigs. 

Then  there  is  Mr.  Harry' s  tame  squirrel  out  in 
one  of  the  barns  that  teases  me  considerably.  He 
knows  that  I  can't  chase  him,  now  that  my  legs 
are  so  stiff  with  rheumatism,  and  he  takes  delight 
in  showing  me  how  spry  he  can  be,  darting  around 


356 


BEAUTIFUL  JOE 


ir- 


me  and  whisking  his  tail  almost  in  my  face,  and 
trying  to  get  me  to  run  after  him,  so  that  he  can 
laugh  at  me.  I  don't  think  that  he  is  a  very 
thoughtful  squirrel,  but  I  try  not  to  notice  him. 

The  sailor  boy  who  gave  Bella  to  the  Morrises 
has  got  to  be  a  large,  stout  man,  and  is  the  first 
mate  of  a  vessel.  He  sometimes  comes  here,  and 
when  he  does,  he  always  brings  the  Morrises  pres- 
ents of  foreign  fruits  and  curiosities  of  different 
kinds. 

Malta,  the  cat,  is  still  living,  and  is  with  Mrs. 
Morris.  Davy,  the  rat,  is  gone,  so  is  poor  old 
'  Jim.  He  went  away  one  day  last  summer,  and  no 
one  ever  knew  what  became  of  him.  The  Mor- 
iises  searched  everywhere  for  him,  and  offered  a 
large  reward  to  any  one  who  would  find  him,  but 
he  never  turned  up  again.  I  think  that  he  felt  he 
was  going  to  die,  and  went  into  some  out-of-the- 
way  place.  He  remembered  how  badly  Miss 
Laura  felt  when  Dandy  died,  and  he  wanted. to 
spare  her  the  greater  sorrow  of  his  death.  He 
was  always  such  a  thoughtful  dog,  and  so  anxious 
not  to  give  trouble.  I  am  more  selfish.  I  could 
not  go  away  from  Miss  Laura  even  to  die.  When 
my  last  hour  comes,  I  want  to  see  her  gentle  face 
bending  over  me,  and  then  I  shall  not  mind  how 
much  I  suffer. 

She  is  just  as  tender-hearted  as  ever,  but  she 
tries  not  to  feel  too  badly  about  the  sorrow  and 
suffering  in  the  world,  because  she  says  that  would 
weaken  her,  and  she  wants  all  her  strength  to  try 
to  put  a  stop  to  some  of  it.     She  does  a  great  deal 


THE    END   OF    MY    STORY 


357 


:e,  and 
he  can 
a  very 
lim. 
lorrises 
he  first 
re,  and 
;s  pres- 
iifferent 

th  Mrs. 
3or  old 
and  no 
e  Mor- 
fifered  a 
im,  but 
I  felt  he 
-of-the- 
y  Miss 
nted.to 
h.  He 
anxious 
I  could 
When 
tie  face 
nd  how 

but  she 
ow  and 
,t  would 
h  to  try 
sat  deal 


of  good  in  Riverdale,  and  I  do  not  think  that  there 
is  any  one  in  all  the  country  around  who  is  as 
much  beloved  as  she  is. 

She  has  never  forgotten  the  resolve  that  she 
made  some  years  ago,  that  she  would  do  all  that 
she  could  to  protect  dumb  creatures.     Mr.  Harry 
and  Mr.  Maxwell  have  helped  her  nobly.     Mr. 
Maxwell's  work  is  largely  done  in   Boston,  and 
Miss  Laura  and  Mr.  Harry  have  to  do  the  most  of 
theirs  by  writing,  for  Riverdale  has  got  to  be  a 
model  village  in  respect  of  the  treatment  of   all 
kinds  of  animals.     It  is  a  model  village  not  only 
in  that  respect,  but  in  others.     It  has  seemed  as 
if  all  other  improvements  went  hand  in  hand  with 
the  humane  treatment  of   animals.     Thoughtful- 
ness  toward  lower  creatures  has  made  the  people 
more  and  more  thoughtful  toward  themselves,  and 
this  litde  town  is  getting  to  have  quite  a  name 
through  the  State  for  its  good  schools,  good  society, 
and  good  business  and  religious  standing.     Many 
people  are  moving  into  it,  to  educate  their  chil- 
dren.    The  Riverdale  people  are  very  particular 
about  what  sort  of  strangers  come  to  live  among 

them. 

A  man,  who  came  here  two  years  ago  and 
opened  a  shop,  was  seen  kicking  a  small  kitten 
out  of  his  house.  The  next  day  a  committee  of 
Riverdale  citizens  waited  on  him,  and  said  they 
had  had  a  great  deal  of  trouble  to  root  out  cruelty 
from  their  village,  and  they  didn't  want  any  one 

^1 ^^A    Xf^i■^r^.A^tf>a    it    orrain     and    tnev 

thought  he  had  better  move  on  to  some  other  place. 


I 


358 


BEAUTIFUL    JOE 


The  man  was  utterly  astonished,  and  said  he'd 
never  heard  of  such  p.  .ticular  people.  He  had 
had  no  thought  of  being  cruel  He  didn't  think 
that  the  kitten  cared  ;  but  now  when  he  turned  the 
thing  over  in  his  mind,  he  didn't  suppose  cats 
liked  being  kicked  about  any  more  than  he  would 
like  it  himself,  and  he  would  promise  to  be  kind 
to  them  in  future.  He  said,  too,  that  if  tlity  had 
no  objection,  he  would  just  stay  on,  for  if  the 
people  there  treated  dumb  animals  with  such  con- 
sideration, they  would  certainly  treat  human  beings 
better,  and  he  thought  it  would  be  a  good  place  to 
\  bring  up  his  children  in.  Of  .course  they  let  him 
stay,  and  he  is  now  a  man  who  is  celebrated  for 
his  kindness  to  every  living  thing  ;  and  he  never 
refuses  to  help  Miss  Laura  when  she  goes  to  him 
for  money  to  carry  out  any  of  her  humane  schemes. 
There  is  one  most  important  saying  of  Miss 
Laura's  that  comes  out  of  her  years  of  service  for 
dumb  animals  that  I  must  put  in  before  I  close, 
and  it  is  this.  She  says  that  cruel  and  vicious 
owners  of  animals  should  be  punished  ;  but  to 
merely  thoughtless  people,  don't  say  "  Don't  "  so 
much.  Don't  go  to  them  and  say,  "  Don't  over- 
feed your  animals,  and  don't  starve  them,  and 
don't  overwork  them,  and  don't  beat  them,"  and 
so  on  through  the  long  list  of  hardships  that  can 
be  put  upon  suffering  animals,  but  say  simply  to 
them,  "  Be  kind.  Make  a  study  of  your  animals' 
wants,  and  see  that  they  are  satisfied.  No  one 
can  tell  you  how  to  treat  your  animal  as  well  as 
you  should  know  yourself,  for  you  are  with  it  all 


THE   END   OF   MY   STORY 


359 


the  time,  and  know  its  disposition,  and  just  how 
much  work  it  can  stand,  and  how  much  rest  and 
food  it  needb,  and  just  how  it  is  different  from 
every  other  animal.  If  it  is  sick  or  unhappy,  you 
are  the  one  to  take  care  of  it ;  for  nearly  every 
animal  loves  its  own  master  better  than  a  stranger, 
and  will  get  well  quicker  under  his  care." 

Miss  Laura  says  that  if  men  and  women  are 
kind  in  every  respect  to  their  dumb  servants,  they 
will  be  astonished  to  find  how  much  happiness 
they  will  bring  into  their  lives,  and  how  faithful 
and  grateful  their  dumb  animals  will  be  to  them. 

Now,  I  must  really  close  my  story.  Good-bye 
to  the  boys  and  girls  who  may  read  it ;  and  if  it 
is  not  wrong  for  a  dog  to  say  it,  I  should  like  to 
add,  "God  bless  you  all."  If  in  my  feeble  way 
I  have  been  able  to  impress  you  with  the  fact  that 
dogs  and  many  other  animals  love  their  masters 
and  mistresseb,  and  live  only  to  please  them,  my 
little  story  will  not  be  written  in  vain.  My  last 
words  are,  ' '  Boys  and  girls,  be  kind  to  dumb  ani- 
mals, not  only  because  you  will  lose  nothing  by  it, 
but  because  you  ought  to  ;  for  they  were  placed  on 
the  earth  by  the  same  Kind  Hand  that  made  all 
living  creatures." 


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